


When Hope Guards the Gate

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Series: There's More Than Pain In Your Bones and Anger In Your Eyes [1]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 1960s, Canon compliant...ish, Ensemble Cast, Mixing comics and movie canons up left and right, Multi, Obscure movie scenes became entire subplots, how many people does Charles have to bribe to allow them to approve his school anyway?, rewrite of Not Just Pain and Anger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles pretends to create a mutant school, Hank actually creates a mutant school, and Erik's band of revolutionaries weaves in and out of their lives. </p><p>No none ever claimed being a mutant was going to be easy, but no one said it was going to be this complicated either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Are You Doing Here?

_You're not going to be late, are you?_ Emma Frost asked, and Erik winced all the way across the park from where she was sitting, waiting for their contact to arrive.

 _No_ , he sent back, already missing the helmet because at least it made him feel more secure. He knew Angel was somewhere else in the park, and Azazel was probably lurking around somewhere too.

 _Not very talkative are you?_ Emma shot back. _No. Yes. Maybe. Strictly business in your head._

 _Which is why you should get out of it,_ he pushed back. _Your contact isn't due for a while yet._

 _Enjoy your stroll then_ she said, having to have the last word and he snarled at thin air in front of him, turning the collar of his coat higher against the chill of November. It wasn't that using Shaw's old hideouts wasn't useful, but he had rarely been outside on his own in the last month.

Not that there was much to enjoy about being out on his own, he thought, looking quickly back and forth as he walked with his hands in his pockets. Several senior citizens passed in front of him and his eyes were drawn over to where chess tables were set up for players. He was about to move on when his eyes stopped, skidded, and went back to a form sitting by himself.

Before Erik even processed it was Charles, he was striding over to him, stopping at the edge of the table.

Charles blinked at the sudden presence looming by his table and he tilted his head up slowly, "Hello, Erik. I wasn't expecting to see you again."

For a horrible long moment, Erik just stared at him in complete silence. "I did not intend for you to see me again," he said after a beat.

"Hm, you know I had managed to figure that out," Charles said, sparing a brief glance around the part of the park they were in and not explicitly mentioning being left bleeding on a beach. "Sit down?"

"What?" Erik asked, after another too long pause.

"Unless you're continuing on your way. Please, sit down. I get tired of craning my neck to look at people," Charles said, watching Erik closely.

Erik tensed at that before sliding into the seat, his shoulders stiff.

"Thank you," Charles murmured, straightening the chess pieces in front of him. "I am very surprised you're even in the area."

"New York is a very busy area," Erik said with a roll of his shoulders, eyes too intent on Charles' face.

"That's true, I perhaps shouldn't come so far afield myself," Charles' tone was polite, though it sharpened very slightly toward the end.

"Have we staked out some territory?" Erik asked, voice cold. "Places where we are allowed to go the other isn't? Should I not be here?"

"That is not what I said," Charles' voice shifted toward acidic. "It is simply too much trouble to come all the way out here for such slim choices of chess opponents."

Erik idly knocked over the king in front of him. "Do you have any closer to home?" he asked, not looking at Charles anymore.

"Not currently. The local park has nothing like this, and there's not much call for it in most of the town," Charles said, eying the fallen king. Erik flickered his eyes back up.

"I'm not going to sit here and play chess with you, Charles."

Charles arched an eyebrow at him, "You'll notice I was sitting here quite peaceably before _you_ approached _me_. I'm more than willing to go back to doing so if you're so anxious to be gone."

"I meant," Erik started and stopped. "I meant that I will not pretend as if nothing has changed and we are here for a friendly game of chess with each other."

That earned a bark of laughter that was clearly both forced and bitter, "Oh I would never presume such a pretense. Especially not enough to expect one from you."

Erik's finger twitched and he ended up picking up the king, long fingers wrapping around it. "No? Good." He spent a moment just turning the king over in his hands. "Aside from the obvious," he said after a moment. "You look good."

"You mean the wheelchair?" Charles asked, running a finger over the arch of one of his knights. "You look well yourself."

Erik hummed. "Yes, that. But otherwise you appear... healthy."

"As healthy as ever, yes," Charles agreed. "It would be a clean bill of health if not for...that."

" _That_ ," Erik echoed the word back. "Does it help to refer to your wheelchair without calling it by what it is?"

"No, it helps far more to give it a name actually," Charles said dryly with a thin smile which dropped almost immediately. "What sort of question is that? Of course it doesn't help."

Erik shrugged and looked away. "It looks like McCoy's work."

Charles nodded once, "Hank had a hand in it. Nothing we could find was comfortable enough or practical for me as a long-term solution."

"Which means it will be long term," Erik said, still not looking over.

"Yes. The doctors see no chance of it ever improving." Charles answered clinically, watching Erik to see if the words found a mark, "They've found no sensation in my legs at all. It nearly severed my spine."

"Nearly," Erik repeated quietly, and held himself completely still.

"Nearly. There's enough there that I hope that it's possible to regain some sensation eventually, but the nerves are too damaged now," Charles nodded.

"Ah," Erik said and he sat for a moment, staring at some distant point off to the side before abruptly pushing himself back to his feet. "I really did plan on not seeing you again," he said, leaning across the table instead.

Charles tilted his head back slightly, following Erik's movement, "Yes, I got that feeling. I certainly didn't plan or expect to see you either."

"Considering it's entirely possible we won't see each other again after this either, it seems I might as well do this," Erik said and hesitated one more moment before leaning forward and shoving their mouths together, the angle all wrong.

Charles startled, nearly instinctively throwing up a mental block on every mind in the immediate vicinity to hide the sight. He craned his neck to try and ease the angle, hand tangling in the front of Erik's shirt to pull him down a bit further. Erik sank down, hands gripping the edge of the chess table to keep himself steady. Charles drew back for breath, his blue eyes wide as he searched Erik's face, "You...."

"I had wanted to," Erik said. "Seemed like I might as well, considering."

"Why didn't you before?" Charles' voice was quiet and he was still leaning into Erik's space.

"I still had something to lose with you," Erik said.

Charles' fingers tightened in Erik's shirt and he pulled the other man down into another kiss, briefer this time as he drew back again, "I've wanted you to do that since before Russia."

Erik stared at him with darkened eyes. "Any particular reason before Russia?"

"For the same reasons as after Russia. You're a handsome, intelligent man. Impassioned in your focus," Charles said, eyes locked with Erik's.

Erik snorted, a totally inelegant sound. "Yes. That all is perfectly acceptable reasons to kiss someone."

"It's far more reason than I've had with some people in the past," Charles said, blinking at him.

"And the other things?" Erik said.

"It doesn't change what attracted me to you, and you're the one who said there wasn't really anything to be lost by doing this now," Charles said with a very slight shrug.

"Because I thought you would punch me in the face."

"I've only had a month to stew on it. Try me in ten years and perhaps I would."

Erik stared at him. "You would punch me in ten years but not a month later?"

Charles' lips curled upward ever so slightly, "Possibly."

Erik's hands were white on the table. "I severed your spine and you're letting me kiss you."

Charles stared at him for a long moment before speaking calmly, "Letting you kiss me does not mean I forgive you for that, Erik."

"No," Erik agreed, tilting his head. "But still wanting it implies you still don't hate me."

"It takes a lot to make me hate a person," Charles said, smoothing down the front of Erik's shirt where he'd held it. "I've never yet met someone who managed to make me do so."

"I've done terrible things to you," Erik said. "All things considered I probably will do more."

"Yes," Charles agreed simply. "And I'm still attracted to you. I'm not saying that you won't someday do something to make that even more difficult, but really Erik are you honestly trying to argue me out of attraction?"

"Yeah," Erik said, Emma starting to yell in his head about being on time so he leaned down, pressing another quiet kiss to Charles' mouth. Charles pressed into the kiss, but drew back sharply after a very brief moment. His gaze darted to the left where Alex Summers stood staring at them both with his mouth agape.

Erik turned his head. "Ah," he said, pushing himself back and up. "Alex."

Alex snapped his mouth shut, his eyes narrowing, "What are you doing here?"

"Passing through," Erik said.

Never taking his eyes off Erik, Alex spoke to Charles, "Are you ready to go, Professor?"

Charles frowned very slightly at Alex and then nodded, "I believe so."

Erik stood there another second before he turned on his heel. "Good day," he said stiffly.

"Good day, Erik," Charles said, his voice just barely a gentler side of neutral. Erik paused, tensing before he continued walking away. Alex glared at his retreating back before escorting Charles to the car. The ride back to the mansion passed in tense silence.

x-x-x-x

Hank sat with his back to the door, hunched over tests and a microscope. His gaze alternated between the two in obvious annoyance and he muttered something to himself.

He had been at the same thing for hours.

A packet of Twinkies landed in front of him and he almost fell off his stool as he jumped, snapping his head around and shoving his glasses back.

Alex was standing there, arms crossed as he scowled at the lab table as though it had insulted his parentage, "Charles is insane." He considered before tossing a second packet of Twinkies over to join the first one.

"Yes?" Hank offered. "Why does this call for Twinkies?" He frowned at him before drawing the packets closer and considering one critically.

"They're not poisoned," Alex muttered. "And it calls for Twinkies because bad things are going to come of the fact that Charles is insane."

"Well, I won't say no to them," Hank said and looked sideways like he did not believe they were not poisoned. "But what has Charles' insanity to do with it? What has he done now?"

"I left him at the park to play chess again today. He ended up playing against Erik. Sort of, I think," Alex muttered.

Hank's hands tightened and he was glad he'd put the packet down as he growled. "Erik. Sort of."

"I don't know if any chess actually got played," the blond explained, even as he shifted slightly away from the growl.

"So what were they doing?" Hank asked, fur still bristled at the very mention of Erik.

Alex paused and tossed a third package of Twinkies down on the lab table before answering, "I don't know, but,” he shifted back on his heels and then forward again, “They were kissing when I got there. "

"What?" Hank asked, snapping out of his anger and into confusion.

"I don't know," Alex snapped. "I'm trying not to think about it."

For a long moment Hank stilled, watching Alex from where he was still sitting on the stool, blue fur sliding back down from where it had poofed up. "Kissing," he repeated. "What bothers you most about that then?"

"Beyond the fact that Erik and Charles were kissing in the middle of the park?" Alex replied, hunching his shoulders, his crossed arms looking less like they were holding in his power and temper and more like they were a shield.

"In public?" Hank asked and looked terrified for a moment. "Yes. Does it bother you that it was Erik or is there something else?"

"Why's it matter?"

"I suppose it does not," Hank said after a beat, looking back at the small pile of Twinkies he'd amassed in several minutes. "My curiosity is always threatening to get the better of me."

"Yeah, you and that big brain of yours," Alex muttered.

Hank looked back up at him with a crease between his brows before he smoothed it out. "Rather. You never did answer the question." He tried to ignore the strange way his stomach was curling under his chest bone.

Alex looked like he would rather run than answer, but he shrugged, trying to play it off and not managing it due to the fact that he still couldn't seem to uncurl his shoulders, "Isn't the fact that it's _Erik_ enough?"

"By your very question you're implying that's not all it is," Hank said, tone calmer than he felt.

"The guy left us on that beach with Charles bleeding out and it stuck Charles in a wheelchair, probably for life, and now what? I just..." His jaw clenched and he shook his head, "Forget it."

Considering him a moment, Hank held out one of the packets of Twinkies. "I'm certainly not saying it thrills me to my bones either. But why come to me about this?"

Alex paused before accepting the packet and opening it, "Because Sean's figured out exactly what level he needs to hum at to block my voice."

The corners of Hank's mouth twitched up. "Oh my stars and garters, he would have figured that out."

That earned a blink and a twitch of the blond's eyebrows, "Stars and garters?"

Hank suddenly focused his attention on the papers, shuffling some together and clearing his throat. "It's an old phrase I picked up."

Alex snorted and shook his head, taking a bite out of one of the Twinkies in the pack and muttering, "Of course you did."

The line of Hank's shoulders tensed slightly and he did not look up. "I'm quite certain I've picked up an odder variety of things over the years."

"I bet you have," Alex agreed, finishing off the first Twinkie and setting the package containing the remaining one down on the lab table.

Eyes sliding over, Hank arched his brows. "Just one of them?"

"Not my favorite snack food," Alex admitted with a shrug.

Hank looked offended. "How is that even possible? Conceivable?"

"I just never got a taste for them."

Hank shook his head but found himself looking away again, stomach still twisted up. "At least now I know for sure you didn't poison them."

Alex snorted, but actually grinned at that, "Yeah, guess so."

"Are you going to do anything?" Hank asked, still staring at the wall. "About Erik and the professor?"

"Like what? I'll go down to the bunker and take out a few targets probably, but they're adults. Even if I think the professor's insane and I know Erik is."

"And that's it?" Hank asked, tone wary.

Alex stilled when he realized what Hank was asking. He turned to look at the blue mutant, "I'm not gonna turn them in or something, Hank."

"Aren't you?" Hank asked and his mouth twisted in annoyance with himself, hands clenched on his lap.

The blond stared at Hank, opening and closing his mouth twice before he managed to form words, "No! Why would you—? Hell no."

"Why not?" Hank asked, tense as he looked over.

"Why would you ask that?" Alex shot back, brown eyes narrowed.

"You're the one that seemed worried about it," Hank said. "Offended even. I'm just trying to decide if it's more because of Erik or... or the other thing."

"Didn't I already say it was more Erik?" Alex could feel his temper spiking again, though he was sure it was not entirely at Hank.

"Then you're handling the other side of the issue rather well," Hank said, that fact enough to make him suspicious. "Though I suppose being what we are makes us enough of social outsiders."

Alex snorted, "Yeah, whatever. I'm going to go downstairs, the car I drove today was making an odd sound." He didn't push away to leave, uncertain how much he might have given Hank in the course of their conversation.

Hank watched him and frowned slightly when he had not moved yet. "Is there anything else?"

Alex pulled out the last pack of Twinkies he'd brought and tossed it down before heading to the door, "No."

"If... if you need to talk," Hank said, staring at the small hoard of Twinkies that had been given to him. "I guess you know where to find me."

"What would I need to talk about?" Alex paused at the door, looking over his shoulder at Hank.

"I don't know," Hank said with a roll of his shoulders. "Anything I suppose."

"Yeah, sure. Cause I'm entirely the sort to _talk_ ," he muttered. "See you around, furball." Alex opened the door of the lab and slipped out.

"Of course you're not," Hank said even though the other was already gone. "The offer stands," he added to the door and crossed his arms over the table, dropping his head into them.

x-x-x-x

Charles rolled his chair into the kitchen, intending to fetch a glass of water, and came to a stop when he saw Hank there and felt the roiling thoughts and emotions from the younger man.

"Hello Charles," Hank said without turning around, considering the pan on the stove and poking it with a spatula before groaning at the mess that once had dreams of being a stir fry.

"Hello, Hank. Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly, except for dinner," Hank replied, even though he knew it was stupid to lie to a telepath.

Charles arched an eyebrow before getting the glass of water he had originally arrived for, "You could get Sean to help with that I'm sure."

"He's not a very good cook," Hank said and sighed, wondering what else he could make if he scrapped what was in the pan entirely.

"Well, not as good as you are," Charles allowed, sipping at his water as he watched Hank. "So are you going to tell me what's actually bothering you?"

"Why Erik?" Hank asked and shook his head. "No, that wasn't it either. I know why Erik. Why the hell are you letting him back?"

"Ah, I see Alex has been talking," Charles murmured. "I'm not letting him back, Hank. That would imply that he means to come back."

"You're more than letting him back into your life," Hank said and shoved the pan off the burner, dumping the contents as he moved across the kitchen.

"No, Hank, I’m not. But even if I were, if you know the answer to ‘why Erik’ then you know the answer to that," Charles said quietly, watching Hank as he spoke.

"He's charming and handsome and also mind-bogglingly insane and a murderer," Hank said. "I see the attraction, not the logic in allowing him to be a part of your life again."

Charles pursed his lips, setting his glass down and folding his hands in his lap, "We haven't had an actual conversation, I would hardly call him a part of my life again."

"And kissing him in a public park?" Hank all but ground out. Somehow, he'd held out the hope Alex had been wrong.

That garnered a single blink, "That would normally be a stronger basis for considering him a part of my life. But I'm not entirely sure why this is your business."

"Maybe it's not," Hank agreed and blinked down at the spatula he'd bent in half as he said that.

Charles' gaze drifted to the spatula, "Would you feel any better if I said that I hadn't expected to see him again and still don't?"

"But you'll welcome him if you do," Hank said and tried to gently toss the broken utensil in the trash instead of throwing it.

"Yes," Charles answered simply. "If I see him again, I won't turn him away."

"Then it confuses me," Hank said, tone getting lower. "And frankly seems dangerous and stupid. The man left you bleeding on a beach with no way out, after he decided to leave to start a mutant revolution that really means genocide!"

Charles drew a deep breath, "Perhaps it is foolish. But I refuse to cut him off entirely."

"So he can abandon and betray you again and take as many of us as possible down with you?" Hank demanded.

"That implies that he'll be close enough to do either of those things," Charles narrowly avoided snapping.

"You say that now," Hank snarled, fangs bared and he startled out of his anger at that, reaching a hand to his chest to smooth his fur down.

"I'm not so foolish as to make the same mistake twice," Charles responded, his voice tense.

"And when you're in bed or playing chess after too many drinks or whatever it was that got you into this situation before and you think neither of you will ever let something slip?"

"You're far further ahead than we are. It's likely we won't even get to that point," the telepath kept his tone steady.

"What?" Hank asked, shock evident on his face.

"In your thinking, Hank. I've seen him once since the beach, we’re both angry and argumentative. Anything further would imply that we see each other again, repeatedly, and that we do so in private."

"And you expect to never get to that point?" Hank asked.

"I don't know," Charles answered honestly. "I'm not anticipating reaching that point."

"Why not?" Hank frowned, leaning against the counter and trying to stay calm.

"Because I don't trust him. And he, well I'm not sure he's ever trusted me. I'm not inclined to give us the privacy that would require," which was a lie. Charles was more than willing to allow that privacy, confident that his power would assist him in stopping Erik if need be.

Leveling Charles with a long look, Hank didn't move for several moments. "I'm trying to decide if you're lying to me or yourself."

Charles expression shuttered for a moment before he shrugged very slightly, "Perhaps I'm lying to both of us."

"When you make up your mind, I'd like some warning," Hank said, turning back to the cupboards and growling under his breath before pulling down pancake mix, thinking and then pulling down cake ingredients as well. "Will we be celebrating Christmas do you think?"

"I was certainly planning to. It's been a long time since I've celebrated Christmas here, and I'm sure there are still boxes and boxes of decorations in the attic," Charles answered, glad of the subject change.

"Good," Hank said. "I think Sean and Alex need something else to focus on."

"Only Sean and Alex?" Charles' eyebrow arched. Hank shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"You sound like you wouldn't mind either."

"It would be nice to have a Christmas here that has the promise of good memories," Charles answered before he could think about it.

"That sounds rare," Hank said and winced, slamming a pan down as if to distract from what he'd said.

Charles paused, looking toward the far wall, "It's been several years, admittedly."

Hank glanced over his shoulder and nodded. "We should think about a tree then."

Charles actually smiled at that, "And garlands for the banisters I think."

"And lights," Hank added. "Lots of lights."

"And I know there are antique ornaments upstairs. I'm pretty certain some of them date to the mid-Victorian era."

"Are they glass?" Hank asked, stirring pancake batter. They were going to have an interesting dinner.

"I think we'll be leaving glass items in the boxes with Sean's voice acting as it has been," Charles said after a moment of consideration.

"A good plan," Hank smiled faintly.

"How do you feel about it, Hank? You've mentioned the other three of us."

Hank shrugged his shoulders. "It's just another day," he said. "But people like to make a fuss so I don't mind going along with it."

Charles' lips curled upward at that, "Well, we can probably manage to make it a small fuss this year. There's not many of us after all."

"Never underestimate a small group's ability to make a fuss."

That garnered a dry chuckle, "Oh I'm sure it will be a fuss, Sean seems the sort to really enjoy the holiday."

Hank looked down again. "Can you please tell them then that we'll be having dinner a bit later and I hope they're prepared to be eccentric tonight."

Charles nodded, "Of course. About how long until dinner do you think?"

"Half an hour," Hank estimated, pouring the batter in a frying pan and checking the fridge for out of season berries.

"Very well," Charles passed the message along mentally before looking back to Hank. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No thank you," Hank said. "I focus better alone." Not that his stir fry had implied that at all.

Charles nodded once, "Then I'll see you in half an hour or so." He paused, but wheeled himself out of the room. Hank sighed, staring at the walls and trying to keep his mind blank, flipping the batter.

Sean entered the kitchen a few minutes later, picking an apple out of a bowl on the counter, tossing it in the air and catching it before biting through the red peel, "Hey, Hank. The professor said dinner's in about a half an hour. You want a hand?"

"What?" Hank looked up having been intently considering the batter. "Oh. No. I mean, sure?"

Setting the apple down, Sean opened the pantry, looking over his shoulder at Hank, "What can I do? Is that pancakes?"

"Yes," Hank said, not looking over. "I burned the other food."

"You never burn food. What happened?" Sean asked, digging through and finding syrup and moving on to the fridge for other toppings.

"I already got berries out," Hank said, not answering the question.

"Yeah, but no whipped cream. You can't use berries as topping without whipped cream," Sean answered. "So, was Alex being an ass again, or was it something else?"

"Oh," Hank paused. "Both? Does both suffice?"

"Both is a normal answer, but not really an adequate one."

"Alex decided to rant to me because you've figured out how to block out his voice," Hank said, dumping the last of the batter into the pan.

"It's not hard, he hits a specific frequency when he's upset," Sean said, finally closing the fridge. "So it's about whatever he was trying to tell me?"

"Yes, and him," Hank said. "I've been downgraded from bozo to furball."

"Maybe it's some twisted form of affection," Sean muttered, shaking his head and picking up his apple again. "Furball? Really? I wonder if he ever gets tired of having no imagination."

"You don't need to have an imagination when you're an asshole," Hank muttered. "What do you mean, affection?"

"I don't know. I don't want to try and get in his head, but I don't think Alex interacts with people like, well, like people," Sean shrugged, chewing on a bite of apple and leaning against the counter.

Hank stared at him for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching into an almost smile. "He can't interact with people like people? Does he interact well with anything then?"

"Okay that sentence got confused when I was saying it," Sean grinned. "But no, I can think of a few dress dummies that he really doesn't get along with."

Hank tried not to laugh at that. "I feel like setting them on fire doesn't help the relationship."

"Well, no. So hey you're doing better than the mannequins."

"Because I'm not on fire?"

Sean offered him a grin, waving at him with the nearly finished apple, "And you can talk back."

"Which I feel would be an argument more so for being set on fire, not less."

"But you're not on fire," Sean pointed out. "So you're ahead of the game. Besides, what's it really matter. He's an asshole more than half the time."

"What's it matter to me you mean?" Hank asked, dropping the last pancake onto a plate.

"Yeah," Sean agreed, tossing the apple core away and digging silverware out of a drawer.

"One would hope I wouldn't still be bullied in the place I've decided to make home," Hank said with a shrug. "And he makes it personal. And still comes to me when he wants to actually talk about something to, usually, throw it back in my face."

"Okay, good points," Sean considered for a moment. "Have you thought about locking him out of your lab? It would at least remove the last part of that. Maybe."

"And then who would he rant to?" Hank asked.

"The house plant," Alex snapped, stepping into the room from where he had caught the last part of the conversation.

"It would require less bribery," Hank said, turning instantly away and fiddling with the pan again.

Alex scowled at Hank's back, "Pancakes?"

"Yes," he said, less willing to admit to Alex he had burned the original meal.

Sean looked between them, blinking when Alex's response to that was to heft himself up to sit on the counter. Alex crossed his arms, "I haven't had pancakes in a long time."

Hank turned enough to drop the pan in the sink and blinked. "Must you do that to the counters?"

"I don't like the stools," Alex said with a shrug.

"It's the counter," Hank said, still staring at him.

"I noticed," Alex's eyebrows twitched down slightly. Sean rolled his eyes and beat a retreat to see if he could find the professor for dinner.

"I'm used to chasing cats off the counter, not other human beings," Hank said, shaking his head slightly.

Alex leaned back on his hands on the counter, "You had cats?"

"When I was younger," Hank said, not quite looking at him.

"Never been much for cats," Alex grimaced, finally hopping down from the counter, his shirt riding up ever so slightly before he pulled it back down to cover up the strip of skin it had revealed.

"Oh," Hank managed. "They're nice. The purring can be relaxing."

"Yeah, just...never been much for them," Alex repeated, shrugging.

"I almost wish I could have one again but now it seems self-defeating," Hank said, shaking his head at himself. "But they can be quite warm and caring creatures once you get past their... uh," he glanced at Alex and quickly away. "Initial distaste."

"I dunno, can't imagine you purring for yourself," Alex said, looking Hank over.

"Excuse you?" Hank managed.

Alex's eyes widened slightly as he realized what he had said and what that might be construed as, "I mean, I mean a cat would purr at least. If you pet it, or, or something."

"I, as far as I can tell, do not purr," Hank said, almost babbling. "And, and even so cats often purr to comfort themselves, to make themselves feel better not just, just for other people."

"You're not a cat, blueboy."

Hank stared at him for a moment before shoving a hodgepodge of silverware abruptly at him. "Go set the table."

Alex startled slightly and fumbled to keep hold of the utensils, frowning, "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

Hank opened his mouth to thank him and snapped it shut again, pulling down plates. Setting the table, Alex paused to straighten the silverware perfectly before going to grab the plates too. "I talked to Charles," Hank said when he returned. "About Erik."

Alex fell very still at that before drawing a deep breath, "And what did he say?"

"More or less that he's entitled to his own insanity and he would like us to stay out of it."

"Did he remember the part where we're _living in his house_?" Alex snorted, shaking his head, "He's a little bit delusional sometimes."

"He's beyond a bit delusion to be perfectly honest," Hank said and handed Alex the plates. "Thank you."

"Yeah," Alex said. He paused, the plates still in his hands, "Do you think he's got the right idea though? About us and, well, normal people."

"Erik or Charles?" Hank asked, watching him.

"Both, either, I don't know," Alex said, hunching his shoulders and resisting the urge to hold the plates in front of his chest like a shield.

"You liked Erik, didn't you?" Hank asked. "Are you asking me to justify for you why you didn't go with him on the beach?"

"He made sense," Alex said after a moment. "Or, he made more sense than Charles does. I don't want you telling me what's in my head though. I'm asking you what you think."

"I think Erik is a broken man," Hank said, speaking slowly. "Who has the right of some of it. He's seen things that I could—never hope to understand and he does things that I don't think are right. In the end, I don't believe his path will bring anyone what they really need—safety or a home or even equality. I don't think all humans are the enemy. But... sometimes it's easy enough to see what he says. Violence, hate... it makes sense some days."

"And Charles with his talk of peace? The way he talks about living in harmony? You think that's likely?" Alex looked skeptical, but he was starting to uncurl his shoulders again.

"It's what I'd rather believe in," Hank said. "Whether it's what we get or not. Isn't that worth fighting for?"

Alex looked at him for a long moment before he nodded, "Yeah, it's a nice dream, and it's what we've got."

"Isn't it worth it?" Hank asked. "To keep dreaming?"

"Yeah, sure," Alex nodded before he turned to set the plates on the table. "After all, it's not like we've got much else to go on with."

Hank followed him from the kitchen to the dining room. "Is that why you're here? Lack of options?"

"I'm here because I was put in Charles' custody," Alex answered simply, putting the plates in the four place settings. "So that's an affirmative then," Hank shook his head.

Alex's jaw tensed but he nodded once, "Yeah, basically. It's this, prison, or the system though that one's not an option anymore. I'll take the mansion over the other one."

"Then why didn't you go with Erik if you'd rather simply not be in prison?" Hank snapped.

"Yeah because walking off that beach with someone whose plan is to wipe out humans sure sounds like a way to stay out of prison," Alex snapped right back.

"You are such a child!"

Alex reeled back at that before his eyes narrowed, "Better than being a self-conscious idiot who couldn't deal with an abnormality in a way that didn't make it worse." There was the sound of shattering where Sean had dropped the glassware he was bringing to the table.

"At least I wasn't dragged out of prison," Hank growled and reeled back when he realized how deep his voice had gotten.

Alex paled, but couldn't find a response for that suddenly and turned on his heel to shove past Sean on his way out of the room. Sean turned with him, "Hey, Alex, dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," he snapped, the backdoor that led outside from the kitchen slammed shut a moment later.

"Fuck," Hank said. "Fucking—fuck."

"You two can't be left alone, can you?" Sean asked as he started gathering the biggest pieces of glass.

"You shouldn't be allowed near glass in any of its variations," Hank snapped back. "I'm not hungry either," he said and stormed out the other direction.

Sean stared after him, looking stung but brushing it off and finding a broom before Charles could arrive for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome all!
> 
> The intent of this story is to be canon compliant for all the X-Men movies made up until First Class (So we will be ignoring The Wolverine and Days of Future Past). This is a rewrite of Not Just Pain and Anger, which was never planned as a long story and it kept morphing into one, causing some stress on its structure. 
> 
> We will also be playing writing gymnastics to make the timeline work. Character relationships will shift and change, and we will add relationships to the tags as they show up. Warnings are also liable to change. 
> 
> Hank/Alex and Erik/Charles mostly work as foils for each other in this story but despite the first scene Hank and Alex are probably going to be a bit more of the focus here. 
> 
> Cheers!


	2. Our Track Record Has Been Shoddy As Hell

"Are you quite certain it's good to drink and cook at the same time?" Emma asked, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

Standing at the stove, Riptide shrugged, shutting the oven. "Haven't burned anything yet," he said.

"And it smells fantastic," Angel said from where she was sitting at the kitchen table, brushing a coral nail varnish onto her fingernails.

"What martini is he on?" Emma asked, eying Angel with narrowed eyes.

"Third I think," Angel looked up, her wings fluttering once as she met Emma's gaze.

Emma moved her gaze to Riptide's back as he very casually started mixing the next one, shrugging after several moments at her like she had said something. "Sit down," he said instead. "It'll be ready soon. Drink?"

"Not tonight, darling," she said, gracefully folding herself down into the chair across from Angel.

Angel watched her with occasional darted glances between strokes of her brush. She paused when she finished her left hand and considered it, carefully cleaning her cuticles, speaking to Riptide, "What are you making?"

"Lasagna," he said, leaning against the counter and watching them.

She raised her eyebrows at that and pushed her hair back with her right hand, "Just get a hankering for Italian?"

He paused, frowning slightly before shrugging. "Yes."

Angel considered that before nodding and turning back to her nails again.

"Do you have anything against Italian?" Emma asked.

"No. I haven't had it much," Angel said, not looking up.

"What do you like?" Riptide asked after the silence had gone on too long, even by his standards. He seemed to be considering Emma intently.

Angel shrugged, finally looking up to look at him, "What I could afford. Never really went for anything in particular. Though I remember really good tamales when I was small."

Riptide's hands tensed and then he uncurled his fingers. "I can make those."

Angel's eyes flicked to his hands and then back to his face before she shrugged and shook her head, "You don't have to. I'm not picky, really. I like most things that're put in front of me."

Emma picked up the bottle of nail polish on the table, rolling it between her hands for a moment. "This isn't a very good brand."

"No, but it's cheap," Angel said, looking from the bottle to the nails she still had to add a second coat to.

Emma set it back down and Riptide ducked his head like he was trying not to smile. "Emma," he started and seemed to consider how to say what he wanted in as few words as possible. "Is offended by cheap things."

"And yet somehow I put up with you," Emma said, eyes going to Riptide.

Angel's lips twisted slightly, "Well, it'd be better if I didn't have to put this shit on my nails, but I'd rather use it than shell out the amount they want for the better stuff."

"Honey," Emma said, rubbing her forehead as if in pain. "We stole Shaw's whole fortune. Well, I mean, technically he's dead, so it's not really stealing so much as dishonestly inheriting."

"Don't call me 'honey,'" Angel said, her wings stirring her hair slightly as they vibrated quickly before she calmed them down again. "And it's a force of habit. If you're that offended by my varnish, point me toward better."

"What did it sound like I was doing?" Emma asked, voice ice and Riptide sighed, finishing off the drink in his hand.

"Insulting my taste and choices not offering me alternatives," Angel said, offering her a smile that was a little too sharp to be considered sweet.

"Well it's the first step in a larger conversation."

"Larger conversation. About nail polish," Angel considered for a moment. "Better question than the varnish: what's your suggestion for new boots. I could stand a better quality pair."

"You sure you want to jump up to that? It's much more pricey," Emma said, a touch icily and Riptide clinked his glass against the counter edge. "At least," Emma said, trying to soften her tone slightly. "You would need to shop around for a very high quality to make it worth it."

"Might as well take a dive off the deep end while I can," Angel said, testing how dry her nails were before crossing her arms and leaning back.

"Indeed," Emma said and Riptide didn't startle when Azazel appeared with a puff of sulfur right next to him. Angel did though, nearly knocking over the nail varnish, which was thankfully sealed.

"You'll get used to that," Emma drawled.

"Are you cooking?" Azazel asked, leaning over and hanging an arm off Riptide's shoulder.

"Yes," Riptide said, trying to take the red mutant's arm off him.

"You're kidding, right?" Angel asked, glancing at Emma.

"No," Emma said, considering her own nails.

"How long did it take you to get used to it?"

"Now that would be telling," Emma said with a smirk as Riptide bent down to pull the dish out of the oven.

Angel's lips actually twitched up at that, "Not even a little hint?"

"Certainly not," Emma said with a smile.

"So if you're cooking, there must be drinks," Azazel said, still too far inside Riptide's personal space.

Angel glanced toward Azazel and Riptide out the corner of her eye before looking back to Emma, "Then I guess I have to take your word for the fact that I'll eventually get used to it."

"Yes you will, it can be a team building trust exercise."

That went so far as to startle a laugh from Angel, "I'm pretty sure those are supposed to involve more than one direction of trust. Or so I've heard."

"Well, we'll start there and work our way up, shall we?" Emma asked with a vicious smile.

"So where are the other new recruits?" Azazel asked, wandering over with a new martini and a plate of food.

"Avoiding all of us probably," Angel said, rising to get a plate of lasagna herself.

"Any theories as to why?" Azazel asked, eyes tracking her.

"Because we all worked for Shaw at one point, on Magneto's part. On Mystique's? Hell if I know about you all, maybe the beach, maybe just loyalty to Magneto," Angel said.

"Ah yes, sometimes I forget you defected early," Azazel said with a lazy smile, tail thrashing in the air behind him.

Her wings twitched once and instead of forcing them still she pulled them back in, wrapping them around her and willing them to turn into her tattoos again, "Yes, well they haven't."

"So now that we're all gathered," Azazel said, as Riptide sat down with his own plate, putting one in front of Emma. "What does everyone think of our new glorious leader?"

Angel sat back down in the same seat she had been in before, frowning ever so slightly, "Depends on what you mean."

"Anything," Azazel said. "Take your pick."

"He's driven. But I'm not sure that's always a good thing, especially with how quickly his drive shifted on the beach," Angel said after a moment.

"You left him once before," Emma remarked.

"It was a different situation," Angel said.

"Yes," Azazel agreed. "But now you're working under him again. No hard feelings?"

"Not on my part," Angel said after a moment of consideration. "I left because Shaw was a smooth talker and made me what seemed like a better offer. Magneto's big on loyalty though, I think."

"You think," Riptide repeated, the most sarcastic he had been.

"Alright, so he is," Angel said. "I didn't get how much at the time."

"On the other hand, he hasn't kicked you out yet, either," Azazel said.

"No, that's true," Angel agreed. "What about you three? What do you think of him?"

The three of them paused, looking at each other a long moment.

"I am tentative," Riptide said after a moment and bent his head over his food as if that was all he intended to say.

"Well, he did get me out of that CIA prison," Emma said. " _After_ trying to crack my neck in Russia."

"You were on different sides then," Azazel said.

"Yes, that makes it charming," Emma muttered.

"And you?" Angel asked, looking at Azazel.

He shrugged. "I've seen many glorious leaders come and go," he said.

Angel considered him for a long moment and then decided any skepticism she had based on his apparent age wasn't worth it when she was talking to someone who could teleport halfway around the world.

"Oh," Azazel grinned. "That look I know."

"You can ignore him now," Emma cut in.

Angel turned an expression that might have been gratitude toward Emma, "And what about Mystique. Have any of you actually been able to see her?"

"She comes in and out," Riptide said. "Late."

Angel grimaced slightly at that, "Somehow I'm less surprised by that than I could be I guess."

"Was she more friendly at the other place?" Emma asked.

"Yeah," Angel said after a beat. "I think part of it was she was happy to have people her own age who knew what she is. But, yeah she was much more friendly."

"Charming," Emma said after a beat, going back to considering her nails and Riptide elbowed her, silently cocking a brow.

Angel snorted at that, "Yeah, sure, that's one way to put it."

"Only if you mean the opposite," Azazel said, watching Emma who was studiously not looking back.

Angel spared him a brief glance, "Because I have no idea what sarcasm is." She rose, pocketing her nail varnish and going to wash her plate.

"Oddly enough, I don't need a translation," Emma said, finally looking at Azazel with narrowed eyes, making him laugh.

Angel set her plate aside to dry, "I'll leave you three to...whatever then. Thanks for dinner, Riptide, it was good."

"You are welcome," he said, and Emma went back to staring in icy anger at her plate. Angel hesitated before slipping out of the room, unfurling her wings again as she did so.

x-x-x-x

It was approaching midnight when Hank came muttering out of his lab, heading for the kitchen and flipping more pancakes angrily before shoving everything that Sean hadn't finished putting away onto a tray and heading for the garage where he figured Alex would be.

Alex heard the garage door open and close, but refused to look up from where he was searching through the engine parts scattered across a third of the floor. He had shut the radio off hours before, listening to nothing but the clink of metal and the sound of his own breathing, "What?"

"You said you hadn't had pancakes in a long time," Hank said, shoving the tray toward him like a peace offering.

Looking up finally and blinking at Hank, Alex grabbed a rag from where it was draped over a car bumper and wiped the grease off his hands. He took the tray, almost hesitantly, "So you, what, made me some at midnight?"

"Have you eaten since dinner time?" Hank asked, assuming the answer was no.

Alex shrugged, "I was working on stuff. Have you?"

Hank shrugged. "Still, it was our fight. And you had, um, seemed to be looking forward to dinner."

"You didn't answer my question," Alex said, avoiding Hank's eyes.

"Well, no," Hank said. "But that's more common than you would think. Besides I—I eat more now but need to eat less often. Regular meal times are—even more inconvenient."

"What else changed?" Alex asked, glancing at Hank, "Besides the obvious I mean."

"My voice goes deeper than it used to," Hank said, not looking at him.

Looking back down to the plate and starting to finally cut the pancakes, Alex considered that, "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a scarier thing," Hank said.

"Because it's another change?" Alex asked, leaning back a little bit to better look at Hank.

"Honestly?" Hank asked, staring at him. "Honestly? Just because it's a change?"

"Well when you say it it sounds stupid," Alex muttered. "I mean, it's not...it's not the biggest change."

"Human voices can't make that sort of sound," Hank said, looking away. "Large animals can though."

Alex blinked at him, deciding that his latest nickname needed to change asap, "You're not an animal. You know that, right?"

"I have claws, fangs, fur, and can growl," Hank said, leveling him with a long look. "I'm not human, whatever I am."

"So you're a vegetable or a mineral," Alex shot back. "You're not an animal. You reason, you talk, and hell you're smarter than anyone I think I've ever met."

"Dolphins are probably smarter than humans," Hank said.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Alex grumbled, shaking his head.

"What do you want me to say, Alex?" Hank demanded. "That I'm okay with this? That everything is going to be fine?"

"No, because then you'd be fucking lying to me," Alex said, eyes narrowing. "And we sure as hell don't get along, but I don't think we've lied to each other yet."

"No," he said, blinking rapidly. "We... we haven't lied to each other yet."

"Good," Alex nodded once, taking a bite of the pancakes and blinking. "These are good." He shook his head to get himself back on track, "Look, I know you don't, well, look human, but that doesn’t mean you're not, Hank."

"We're mutants anyway," Hank muttered, watching him eat.

"We're still people. Or damn close enough to count."

"I suppose that is true," Hank said, not adding some perhaps more than others.

Alex set his plate aside, the pancakes completely gone, "You really don't think you're human?"

"It's complicated, isn't it?" Hank returned.

"Maybe," he finally allowed.

"Do you think it is not?" Hank asked.

"I think you're more human than most humans I know," Alex said, shrugging and starting to tidy up a little bit. "So, you're right, it's complicated."

"What?" Hank frowned, following his movements. "How?"

"Because, oh god I'm actually going to say this," Alex gestured to Hank with a wrench he was putting away. "Being human isn't all about this. It's how you deal with other people. Humanity, humane, human."

"A theoretical humanity based on principles and actions," Hank said, still watching him. "That's what you'd rather?"

"Why not?" Alex shrugged, focusing on the toolbox he was re-packing rather than look at Hank.

"It's not the most common definition," Hank said, looking away and hunching his shoulders slightly. "Though I like it better."

"Makes more sense than saying it's just because of how we look or whatever else," Alex said, closing the box and letting his hand rest against the metal.

"That doesn't mean—" Hank let out a long breath. "And if I walked out of the mansion tomorrow you really think most people would agree with your definition?"

Alex scowled, "Don't be stupid. That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying you've got more humanity to you than most of humanity. I'm not saying people out there see it."

Hank considered the wall. "Thank you," he said finally, still looking at the far wall as if it had the answer to everything.

Finally turning, Alex shrugged, "I'm just calling it like I see it."

Hank still didn't look back at him. "And your worldview is remarkably unique."

Alex's eyebrows twitched down when he realized that Hank had been talking at the wall for most of the conversation, "Yeah, well, I'm living in the house of a delusional idealist. Might as well have my own unique worldview, yeah?"

"I suppose," Hank said. "Unique is not... bad necessarily. It's just always so unexpected."

That earned a grin, though his tone wasn't as light as his expression, "Unexpected. That's sure a word to describe me."

"Oh yes," Hank agreed. "You're full of surprises it seems."

Alex blinked once at that, "You say that like you're predictable."

"Aren't I?" Hank asked, watching him finally.

"You built a stealth jet," Alex said, rather than any number of other answers he could have offered.

"Yes?" Hank said. "Was that unexpected? I thought considering my previous career and talents it would be rather self-explanatory."

"I dunno, working for the CIA and building something to amplify brainwaves, doesn't really explain making a plane that does what that one could," Alex shrugged.

"Yes, but inventing things," Hank said. "Leads to more inventions."

Alex shrugged, "Have it your way then."

"What, honestly?" Hank frowned at him. "You haven't even insulted me once."

"You want me to insult you, blue?" Alex asked, eyebrows drawing together in confusion and gesturing at the empty plate, "I thought the pancakes were a peace offering—y'know a truce for tonight at least?"

"Yes," Hank said. "I mean, in part. I just—you had said you hadn't had them in a long time and I didn't want to be the cause of missing out on something you wanted and—I suppose it's a peace offering too. But I'm surprised you took it as such."

"Consider me not insulting you the peace offering I can give," Alex replied. "I'm a shit cook after all. I can make scrambled eggs though. Usually. I think. If you're good with slathering them with salt or ketchup or something."

"Ketchup wouldn't be a horrible loss," Hank said with a faint smile, harder to see on his face now.

Alex grinned again, "Then maybe I should make you scrambled eggs. Oh, I can boil water too, so pasta's an option."

"Oh, well, you could always combine it, maximum peace offering though I can't vouch for the taste of pasta and scrambled eggs. Though both are better with salt."

"Nah, the way you do it is make the pasta and the eggs and chop the eggs up, mix ‘em together and use a bit of salt and a bit of butter. Works wonders," Alex said, brown eyes dancing.

"See? That seems to be entirely within your talents," Hank said, waving a hand. "Though it lacks the personal touch there are always Twinkies."

"Nah, that would risk lulling you into a sense of false security if I brought those even when I didn't have news like today," Alex replied.

"So the Twinkies are a sign of bad news but pasta and eggs are a peace offering?"

"The Twinkies are a treat you like to soften a blow but pasta and eggs are a meal...ish."

"I just want to understand the ways you communicate," Hank admitted, more honest than usual considering the hour. "I don't get it."

"What do you mean? It's not that weird is it?" Alex frowned slightly, more in confusion than anything else.

"I don't get it," Hank shrugged. "I'm not sure if that's saying something about you or me."

"Probably both," Alex said after a moment, crossing his arms.

Hank watched him for a moment. "Did you like the pancakes?" he asked, changing the subject.

Alex nodded, "Yeah, they were real good. Thanks."

"I should finish the experiment I was doing," Hank said, pushing himself up and picking up the tray.

"Yeah," Alex suppressed a yawn. "I think I'll finish getting things settled here and head upstairs. Finish putting this back together tomorrow."

Hank slowly counted backward in his head, carefully reminding himself of their first almost fight that day about Erik and Charles to not think about Alex going to sleep in his bed. "Yes. Well. Sleep well." So much for that.

Alex tipped him a sloppy salute before turning back to his work, "Yeah. Try to get some sleep yourself, yeah?"

"I don't need as much of it," Hank said and cleared his throat. "But yes. I will try."

"G'night, blue," Alex said, keeping his attention off Hank and what 'not needing much of it' could mean.

Hank turned and left abruptly before he could say or think anything else foolish. Alex turned just enough to watch him go, swallowing hard and quickly finishing his work in the garage for the night.

x-x-x-x

Sean pushed open the door to Hank's lab, moving over to lean against the lab table Hank was working at, "So, question for you."

"Yes?" Hank asked, not even looking up.

"Charles wants this to be a school, right?"

"Yes," Hank said, and that made him stop and put both his hands on the edge of the table, though he still did not look up.

"Then why hasn't he actually been doing anything about that?" Sean asked, watching Hank from the corner of his eye.

Sighing, Hank leaned back on his stool, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. Every time he saw the blue fur covering his skin, he still gave a tiny twitch but he had managed to make it minute enough to not be noticed. "I do not know. Depression, probably."

Sean frowned slightly, "Do you think he'll actually start the school? It's just," he hesitated. "Look, I know where they found Alex and I know you were with the CIA but I'm still hearing from my folks and they're asking about this place."

"Ah," Hank said. "They would feel better if it was an actual school then?"

"I would feel better if it was an actual school. They don't know it's not yet," Sean said. "And, well, it might be nice to be more than just us kinda."

"You want more people?" Hank asked, not quite disbelief coloring his voice.

Sean rubbed a hand through his hair and shrugged, "Yeah, kinda. It's a really big place and none of us really—Okay to hell with it, every one of us avoid each other except Alex and I and when he's in a snit that means we avoid each other too. And he's been in a mood a lot lately. I get why more people might not be, might not be good. But more mutants? More mutants we could _help_? Why not?"

"So far our track record has been shoddy as hell," Hank said and then he nodded. "Alright, I'll talk to Charles. It was his dream, and I guess we'll see if it survived Erik or not."

"Thanks. Anything I can do while I'm down here? I'm bored out of my skull."

"Um," Hank started and considered. "I mean..."

Sean grinned, "I was joking. Too much glass, I'm surprised my voice is holding out still."

"Yes, though I would love you to be impressed from a distance," Hank said.

Sean opened his mouth, decided that was pushing his luck for the conversation and offered Hank a grinning salute as he headed toward the door. When he was facing away from most of the glass he finally spoke again, "You want me to tell Charles you want to talk to him?" His voice cracked halfway through and he was really glad all it did was echo slightly off the door.

"No," Hank said. "I'll finish this and find him. Thank you, Sean."

"You're welcome," he paused again and then left.

Hank sat on his stool for a while longer, staring off into space, before rising to find Charles. He found Charles in his study, paging through a translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Charles looked up when he sensed Hank, "Ah, Hank, what can I do for you?"

"Have you considered actually following up on your own intentions to make this a school?" Hank asked.

Charles blinked at him for a long moment, "In vague ways. It wouldn't be too long or hard to push through an accreditation. The difficulty would be tracking down students though."

"Because you already have us here," Hank said. "So if you're not going to do—anything really with us, we should probably find somewhere else to be. Except some of us can't. And you're leaving us in the lurch."

Charles set his book down, considering, "I'll start the process of getting the school accredited. Though you're welcome to stay here even if I wasn't turning it into a school, Hank."

"I," Hank started and shook his head. "No, I don't, I mean," he sighed. "Thank you."

"We've lost Cerebro, though. We've no way to track down other mutants and I'm not certain baseline humans would be a wise choice of students," Charles said, tracing over the cover of the book.

"Are you forgetting I created Cerebro?" Hank asked after a beat.

Charles paused, a wry smile gracing his lips, "I had, actually. What would you need to get another up and running?"

Hank shrugged. "It... without the resources of the CIA it would be harder. I was thinking of creating a smaller version, perhaps one you could use at your desk. It would have a more limited range but..."

"But it would certainly be a start," Charles said after a moment.

"Yes," Hank agreed.

Charles tapped a finger against the arm of his chair, "Just let me know what you need, I'll see to it that we get it for you."

"I'll make a list when I've got it figured out," Hank said, starting to retreat again.

Charles nearly let him leave before speaking again, "Hank? Are you alright with moving forward with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Hank asked, not turning around.

Charles sighed softly, "Because you're still adjusting yourself."

"It feels pathetic to have only the three of us here," Hank said.

"That's not really an answer."

"Yes, it is," Hank said. "You wanted to make a school, to help mutants. Us knocking around and into each other is a pathetic start to such a grand scheme. My adjustment will hardly be helped moping."

Charles' jaw twitched slightly, but he nodded once, "Very well. I'll start making calls to put this in motion."

"Good," Hank said, and turned back to the door.

Charles watched him go before wheeling over to his desk and reaching for the phone there.


	3. What a Charming Persona

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is ready for a lot of Alex and a lot of Emma

Alex hesitated at the door to the lab before frowning at himself and pushing the door open. He stepped inside quietly, not entirely sure why he'd come in the first place. Hank had fallen asleep a large chest, like the one he had put the uniforms in before they went to Cuba. His knees were drawn up to his chest and he looked uncannily like a very large, blue cat.

Alex came to a complete stop at the sight, taking a couple of steps further into the lab and trying to decide if it was a good or bad idea to wake Hank up. He jumped as the door swung the rest of the way shut and he bit back a curse at the abrupt noise.

Hank startled awake, his glasses falling off and he fumbled a hand down on the ground for them. "What's—"

"Sorry," Alex stumbled back a step. "Didn't mean to wake you up."

"Is there an emergency?" Hank asked, already most of the way to completely alert.

"No."

Hank's shoulders seemed to deflate and he finally found his glasses. "Oh. I, uh, figured that was the only reason you would have to come in here."

Alex rubbed the back of his neck, "I, no, I...actually I'm not sure why I came. Kinda just ended up here."

"You," Hank frowned at him. "Just ended up. In my lab."

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"You'll have to excuse my alarm," Hank said after a beat.

"More I ended up outside the lab and thought I'd see what you were up to," Alex said after a moment.

Hank stared at him a moment longer, before clearing his throat. "And can I help you with anything?"

"I was thinking of running into the city tomorrow do you want," he realized what he was asking to whom and revised mid-sentence, "me to pick anything up?"

Hank's gaze shifted and still went on too long. "I can make a grocery list."

Alex nodded slightly, "Also, I heard a rumor Charles is actually working to get this place running as a school?"

"Yes, I tried to set the fire under him again," Hank said. "To some success perhaps."

"Guess it's not a bad thing. So will you be helping him teach any new students then?" Alex asked, fingers of his right hand wrapping around his left elbow.

"I don't know," Hank said. "It's one thing to be outed as a mutant and to come to a school, another thing to have a blue and furry teacher."

"Have you," Alex paused for a moment not quite sure what he was suggesting, "have you thought about a way to hide that?"

"Somehow I thought you might have disapproved of such an idea," Hank said after a beat.

Alex stared at him, "What?"

"Nothing," Hank said, looking away too fast.

"No, no seriously. _What_? You really think I'd tell you not to do something that would let you go out in public again?" Alex scowled, "What the hell, Hank."

"It's not, oh," Hank sighed. "It's just. You seem... angry about hiding."

"Well, yeah, sure. I hate hiding. And I don't think we should have to. That doesn't mean I don't see why," he crossed his arms over his chest.

Hank stared at him. "Oh."

"What does it matter what I think, anyhow?"

"What does it matter what anyone thinks?" Hank asked, hunching his shoulders and sliding off the crate.

"Okay, that's either depressing or a complete evasion. Probably both," Alex said, seeming to curl in on himself.

"I can't help it," Hank said. "Caring what other people think, even when they made it clear they do not care for me."

Alex tensed at that, "Hell of a way to live."

Hank shrugged. "Probably."

"Sean's pretty hyped that Charles is planning to decorate for Christmas too," Alex said, looking away from Hank toward the lab table.

Hank seemed lost at the subject change. "What?"

"Sean. Apparently he's pretty big on Christmas."

"And how are you feeling about it?" Hank asked.

Alex shrugged, "Guess we'll see how it goes and I'll let you know then."

"That's hardly in the Christmas spirit," Hank said wryly.

"Yeah? Well how about you? How are you feeling about it?"

Hank shrugged. "What does it matter? You didn't really give me an answer either."

Alex leaned against the wall by the door, trying and failing to make his crossed arms look less defensive and more casual, "I can't really remember a _good_ Christmas. So like I said we'll see how it goes. I think I know what I'm doing for Charles at least I guess."

"Oh," Hank said after a moment. "I guess that does involve... gifts."

Alex offered him a wry smile, "It can. I've got no idea in hell what to do for you or Sean, but one of my first foster families had a neighbor who lost his leg in the war. He had a car he could just use his hands to drive. Charles has a few cars I think could be fitted with that, and if I can find the parts and some sort of instructions on how to do that, well." He shrugged.

"I," Hank paused. "I could probably help with the car."

Alex hesitated at that and then offered him an uncertain look, "Really? It'd mean working pretty close with me."

"Yes," Hank said. "But it would still be good, and as nice of a gift as telling Charles we tried working together."

Alex nodded after a moment, "Okay. I've got a couple of ideas for places that might know how to do it and I can see what they'd be willing to tell me.”

"Good," Hank said, already looking away again.

Pausing for another long moment, Alex finally nodded and slipped out of the lab. It wasn't more than a minute before he was back, the door nearly bouncing off the wall before he caught it, "Hey, Hank?"

"What?" Hank asked, and he hadn't moved an inch since Alex left him.

"You never did actually tell me if you'd looked into finding something to hide, well, this," he gave a vague gesture toward Hank.

"You should just say it," Hank growled, his voice dropping below the register of what most humans could meet.

Alex ignored the sound, still riding his irritation, "Fine. Why don't you find something to hide the blue fur and claws? You wouldn't have to worry about the students right away and you could actually go out."

"And how exactly do you hide blue fur and claws?" Hank demanded. "Even if I could hide it, you would still feel it."

"Are you serious? You're asking me? I don't fucking know, but I do know one thing," Alex took a couple of steps forward. "If anyone can figure out the goddamn answer to that question it's you."

"And if I end up in a crowd or someone runs into me?" Hank asked. "I certainly couldn't date anyone—besides I'm broader now then I used to be! Someone would notice!"

Alex stared at him, his brow creasing, "So you won't even try? Make the image broader rather than the same exact build?"

"Which does nothing against people finding out if they touch me," Hank said.

"So you won't even try?" Alex repeated, "Start with the visual and work toward the feel?"

"What's the _point_ of trying?" Hank demanded, voice getting too close to a growl again.

Alex blinked at him in shock and confusion, "I don't know? Getting out of the house?"

Hanks fists were tight on the table, enough so his claws were digging into his palms and making them bleed. "And to what end with that?"

"You're arguing _against_ ever leaving these four walls again?" Alex glanced toward Hank's hands and considered backing down but he was sure he almost had what was at the heart of this reaction.

"I can't hide who I am anymore, Alex," Hank said. "I have to see that every day and that world out there has shown it's quite happy to try and _kill us_ for what we are."

Alex took a half step back at that, his brows drawing down further and his eyes narrowing, "You're a rather selfish son of a bitch aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. So stay in here if that's what you'd rather. But are you really telling me you don't think there's a single mutant kid out there somewhere who's visible and who could use a device like you could invent?" Alex grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, "And you won't even look into it because you're so concerned about not hiding _you_."

There was a crack and the table Hank usually sat at had a dent in the metal. "I would leave now," he said, calm voice at odds with the dent.

Alex startled at the crack, his eyes darting between the dent and Hank's face but hesitated before nodding and leaving, the door slamming shut behind him. For a long moment Hank looked at the dent in silence before he pushed himself to his feet, fetching the first aid kit and setting up on the other side of the table, closer to the window and away from both the door and the dent.

x-x-x-x

Charles leaned his elbows on the armrests of his chair, placing his fingers against his temples and focusing, letting his mind seek out southward trying to find any of the minds he knew belonged to Erik's group. He was aiming mostly for Erik himself but kept part of his attention on any of them. He nearly missed Emma's mind as he swept over the masses in New York City but snagged against the hard edge of it and turned his focus there. _Ah, Emma. Just who I was looking for._

 _You must be joking_ came back along the telepathic link.

 _Oh how I wish I was_ Charles drawled. _Since I have managed to reach you would you be so kind as to let me know your current address?_

 _No,_ she shot back. _Remind me to ask Erik to borrow the helmet next time I come this close to New York._

_You might drive yourself mad. I'm sure that helmet works both ways. Now, about that address, are we really going to play who's the stronger telepath today?_

_You're way too far away to take information from my mind,_ Emma replied. For a moment the connection wavered, like she was distracted before it came back. _Why do you want the address?_

_Because I would like the option of writing to Erik._

_Our illustrious leader doesn't want to hear from you,_ Emma retorted.

 _Are you truly so certain of that?_ Charles asked a nearly innocent tone entering his mental voice.

 _Yes, dear,_ Emma replied. _I am after all the one around him._

_So you were aware of the incident in Central Park then?_

_Oh yes,_ she said. _I was there at the time. I got to both see the kiss despite your meddling and do not look suggestions as well as watch the high dudgeon he was in afterwards._

 _Yes, he is rather good at those._ Charles said, _You know I could attempt to information gather from this distance though I doubt it would be all that comfortable for either of us._

 _Which means you could attempt and be rebuffed,_ she said. _Your high opinion of yourself is not charming._

 _My high opinion of myself is not supposed to be charming,_ Charles said, irritated. _What of an intermediate location? Erik can choose to reply or not but it would be his choice and you needn't give up whatever place you lot are holing up in now._

 _If he writes back to you I'll cut my hair off,_ Emma said. _But very well. There's a PO Box in New York._

 _Thank you, Emma._ Charles said keeping his thoughts about a desire for pictures of the result of that threat to himself.

 _You're not welcome,_ she said, rattling off the full address. _Now will you leave my mind alone?_

 _Of course, have a less than delightful day,_ he said, withdrawing and opening his eyes to write down the address before he forgot it.

x-x-x-x

A week later, Hank leaned against the wall of Charles' office. "I think you can try it out now," he said, running a hand over his face and looking at the desk he had retrofitted over the last several days to make a smaller Cerebro. "It won't have world wide access but..."

"But it will be something. A start," Charles said, lifting the headset and placing it on his head, activating the machine. He tensed as his mind was scattered and the smaller Cerebro scanned for mutants. Drawing back after just a little over a minute, Charles disconnected the machine and took off the helmet, "God above, I'd forgotten how that felt."

He reached for the information Cerebro had given them as a list of numbers. One of the numbers Charles thought was on Long Island.

"Are you okay?" Hank asked, tense by the wall.

Charles nodded, rubbing at his temples for a moment, "Yes, I'll need to build up a tolerance to it I think. I forgot what it was to let my mind spread that far. And New York has such a dense population."

"Did it work?" Hank asked, with a moment's hesitation.

Charles nodded, "We've got a few possibilities, but this one," he pointed to the location he thought he recognized. "This one I'm sure of."

Hank glanced it over. "Can we, can we see who lives here before going? And do you know what powers they have?"

"Yes, we'll look into that. If I'm right about the location it's not somewhere you just....stop by. I'm not certain about abilities, perhaps with more practice but not on a first foray," Charles shook his head.

"Alright," Hank said. "Should... should we call them? Just show up like you and Erik did for the rest of us? I mean, is it a power they already know about or will you accidentally out them like you did me...?"

Charles looked at him for a long moment, "We'll call them. The location is Long Island. We'll offer it as a preparatory boarding school. My last name still carries some weight down there and at the very least it may get us in the door."

"And hopefully find out from there," Hank said. "Will you be coming with us?"

Charles blinked twice at him, "Are you going?"

"I," Hank paused. "Maybe. I have been told that I might have... the right sort of sympathy to help students."

"And your appearance?" Charles prompted quietly, "What of that?"

"Image inducer," Hank said. "I've been... working on it."

Charles offered him a small smile and a nod, "When I contact the family I'll let them know that myself or another instructor will come with a student to meet with them, how does that sound?"

"Alright," Hank said. "I thought it might also be useful, for other students we might get who can't, well, hide what they are physically."

"It's a good idea," Charles agreed.

"Yes," Hank said quietly because he had been more or less avoiding Alex since their last argument.

"I'll get in contact with the family and let you know what they say," Charles said. "Is there anything I can do to help you with anything, Hank?"

"I'm fine," Hank said, mostly automatic.

Charles arched an eyebrow at him before nodding ever so slightly, "If you ever need to talk."

"Yeah, sure," Hank agreed.

Charles didn't look like he believed that for a moment, "Thank you for getting this up and running so quickly, Hank."

"You're welcome," he said. "I had, uh, to have something to do."

Charles nodded again, picking up the information with the location and wheeling back from the retrofitted desk. Hank watched him for a moment before walking out into the hallway and directly into Alex.

Alex blinked once and then his brows drew downward, "Oh so you haven't died in your lab then."

"Apparently not," Hank said.

"So, that last fight was bad, but what part of 'we should work on this project together and I will see about getting plans for it tomorrow' translated into 'let's barely cross paths for a week' in your brain?"

Hank blinked at him, taking a deep breath that filled his chest before letting it slowly out. "I was busy," he said quietly. "I knew we were going to get to it but there were other things I had to work on first."

Alex's eyes had shifted to Hank's shoulders and the way they moved because of the breath and he snapped his attention back to what Hank was saying quickly, "Look, I know you have projects. I know this thing we talked about isn't something that needs to be done right now. And hell I know we don't get along, pretty sure we don't really like each other even. But you disappearing for a week is something I notice."

"Do you?" Hank said, like that was actually a surprise.

That earned him a dark look before Alex caught it and shrugged, "Well yeah, not like there's a lot of people here."

"Right," Hank said with a self-deprecating smile. "Of course not. That would explain it."

Alex bit back the first thing he wanted to say and drew a deep breath, "Fuck it, Hank. Yes, I notice. And yeah maybe part of it is that there's only four of us here. But damn it, it was a week, of course I noticed."

"Why?" Hank asked, all too aware suddenly they were fighting in front of Charles' door.

Alex stared at him for a long moment, "Because you're you. Because it was weird not seeing you around the mansion."

"You've just said yourself we barely even like each other," Hank protested.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't worried!" Alex snapped before his eyes widened.

"You were... worried?" Hank repeated, like he couldn't really believe it.

Alex rocked back on his heels, but nodded.

"I," Hank started. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't be," Alex said automatically. "Just, just try not to do it again, yeah?"

"I," Hank started. "Okay, I'll try."

"Thanks," Alex said. "What were you talking with Charles about?"

"Getting a new Cerebro working," Hank said, feeling like he was back on firmer ground again.

"That's how he found us the first time, right?" Alex confirmed.

"You—" Hank blinked. "Yes," he said. "That's how he found everyone the first time, you and Angel and Sean and D—" and he cut off again.

Alex tensed and glanced away, "Yeah. So does the new one work then?"

"Yes," Hank said. "It's not as strong as the other one but it can still cover a pretty big distance. Since it's not as strong I don't think it will be as easy to discover powers but it might with practice and we've already located a couple of potential students—"

Alex's eyebrows rose at that, "Already?"

Hank nodded. "Is that a problem? You were the one who said we needed more students..."

"No, no, I guess I just didn't expect it to happen so quick," Alex said, shrugging.

"Well, the family is quite rich I think," Hank said. "It might take us a while to, uh, negotiate and approach them."

Something shuttered in Alex's expression at that, "Yeah, guess we'll see. You ready for the idea of having new students?"

"Soon," Hank said. "I think."

"Really?" Alex's eyes widened slightly and his voice held a note of surprise.

"I, well," Hank said and paused, fiddling with something on his wrist. Instantly his image changed, from his blue and furry self to a slightly broader shouldered image of what he had looked like before.

Alex startled back before shifting forward again, his lips parting and his eyes flickering over the illusion, "Oh my god, Hank."

"I mean," Hank reached forward, resting his hand on Alex's arm and his fur and claws could still be felt. "It's not perfect, like I said, but the illusion idea... for basic interaction isn't... well... it was a good idea."

Alex placed his hand over Hank's on his arm, brushing lightly over the fur there and staring at Hank's hand in something like awe, "This, Hank this is amazing." He grinned at Hank, "Knew you could do it."

"Yes," Hank said, looking at Alex's hand. "You're going the wrong way," he said, something funny in his voice.

Alex startled at that, pulling his hand back abruptly, "I...sorry."

"No, that's not," Hank said and his shoulders hunched. "It just feels weird, to have the fur stroked the wrong way. I guess I get why cats don't like it."

"So," Alex hesitated, trying to figure out for a moment what the hell he was doing, "So you don't mind it if it's not the wrong way?"

"I don't know," Hank said. "No one's gone one way or the other since... since this happened."

Alex's fingers twitched slightly at that and he carefully reached up to place his hand over Hank's again, stroking the fur there in what he thought was the right direction without being able to see it. He kept his eyes focused on their hands so he wouldn't have to look at Hank.

Hank froze completely, his fingers flexing before he forced them to be still. He realized he wasn't breathing when he started to feel a little light headed.

Drawing his hand back after a moment and finally pulling his arm out from under Hank's touch, Alex crossed his arms to keep from touching again, "Well?"

"It," Hank said and was glad that the image inducer was not linked up to him enough to show the heat on his cheeks.

"I—" Alex shifted his weight backward, not meeting Hank's eyes, "Sorry. Shouldn'ta done that."

"That's not," Hank started, mind going too fast for him to keep up with. "It felt nice," he settled for, lamely. "No one's touched me at all in—a long time. I just hadn't realized."

"Don't think Sean does much touching in general. And Charles wouldn't. And we, well, we—" Alex broke off and shrugged.

"No, of course not," Hank said too fast. "That wasn't—it isn't—well, anyone's fault. It just, I hadn't _realized_."

Alex's shoulders twitched in what might have been another infinitesimal shrug or might have been shaking them out, "Yeah, well. This, this—" he gestured to the illusion, "You did a good job with it."

"Yes," Hank said, shutting it off a little too quickly. "Thank you."

Alex nodded very slightly, "Yeah, you're welcome."

"It's not perfect yet, of course," Hank said. "But I guess it's something. So, so, thank you."

"It's a start," Alex smiled. "I knew you could." He rocked back on his heels, "I need to run into town, just Salem Center not the City, tomorrow. You wanna give it a try out and about? Before the new kid gets here y'know?"

Hank opened and closed his mouth a few times. "I haven't," he started. " _Left_ since Cuba."

"You don't have to come," Alex said. "But, y'know, offer's there."

"It," Hank twisted his hands. "Thank you."

Alex nodded, "Yeah. If you need anything I'll be out in the garage."

"Alright," Hank said. "Just... find me before you go."

"Will do," Alex promised before finally turning to go.

"Thank you," Hank said, probably too quietly to be heard down the hallway.

x-x-x-x

Emma watched Raven lift weights, for all intents and purposes ignoring the world around her. "Are you really going to keep doing this?" she asked, leaning idly against the door frame.

Raven lowered the weights, turning her head enough to look at Emma, "Doing what?"

"Don't play coy," Emma said.

"Fine," Raven said, turning her attention mostly back to her workout, "then why should I change what I'm doing?"

"Because it's pathetic," Emma said. "If you wanted to stay with your brother, you should have stayed with him."

"Maybe I'm just not ready to spend time with people who tried to kill me," Raven said, her tone short.

"Oh please," Emma drawled. "That's the thing you should have thought of before. You made your choice so live with it or run home with your tail between your legs."

Raven set the weights down and turned to face Emma, "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

"Please," Emma said. "Either you thought your actions through or you're a whiny child. Either way, it's old already."

"Thinking my actions through doesn't preclude me not liking any of you," Raven said, crossing her arms.

Emma rolled her eyes, something that usually took far too much effort. "We're working together now, cupcake. That requires a certain team dynamic. Like isn't part of it, but we do have to work together."

"Team dynamic," Raven echoed, looking Emma up and down, "right. Because you all make that so easy."

Emma stared at her, one eyebrow quirked up in a perfect arch. "Were we supposed to? Does Erik make it easy for you? Is that when you like him?"

"I trust Erik," Raven said. "It's the rest of you."

"But does he make getting along with him easy?" Emma pressed.

Raven's jaw twitched and she headed for the door rather than answering.

"If he's not easy," Emma said, watching her. "Why ever do you expect us to be? Do we not deserve to earn your trust too?"

Raven tensed and then drew a deep breath, "You've made your point."

"Have I?" Emma asked. "You seem quite thick headed."

"Fuck you," she snapped. "I'll try and give these 'team dynamics' a shot. Maybe I'll be surprised."

Emma blinked at her. "What a charming persona," she said, almost under her breath except it was clearly meant to be heard.

"Not all of us can be ice and diamonds," Raven said, her lip curling. "Some of us have to figure something else out."

"Bratty rich child working out for you?" Emma asked.

Raven paused at that, looking more closely at Emma for a moment but not getting the read she was hoping for, "Do you want me to try this or not? Because the longer you talk the less I'm inclined to ever be in your space again."

Emma pushed off the doorframe. "Trust goes both ways," was all she said.

Raven's eyes narrowed and she finally nodded, "Okay. Point taken. Any other insights or jabs you want to get in?"

Emma considered her nails before meeting Raven's eyes. "I think I'm good for today."

"Good," Raven met her eyes for a moment before pushing past her and striding down the hall. Emma twitched, obviously uncomfortable with any level of physical touch before she shrugged and strolled down the hall in the opposite direction.

x-x-x-x

Alex hesitated at the door of the lab, opening it and tapping on it at the same time, "Hank?"

Hank looked up from where he was fiddling with the image inducer. "Oh. Already?"

Nodding, Alex stepped inside, "Yeah, if you're up for it."

"I," Hank hesitated long enough it seemed like he might not reply at all. "Alright."

Alex offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "Kay. Not a long trip out, but something."

"Yeah," Hank nodded, pushing himself to his feet.

Alex backed out of the lab again, waiting for Hank in the hall, "What're you working on now?"

"Just tinkering," Hank said.

"Pretty sure your tinkering is scientific breakthroughs to other people," Alex said, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"It's not," Hank said, ducking his head down and he obviously would have been blushing. "It's not nearly that important."

Alex glanced at him and then shrugged, "If you say so."

"Well, sometimes my tinkering hardly has the intended effect," Hank said, looking down.

Alex looked away at that and then shrugged, "Okay that's true. But most of it does, right?"

"Sometimes," Hank said. "Though considering the spectacular level of my failure maybe I should stop playing with forces bigger then myself."

"Or maybe not test things on yourself," Alex suggested.

"Who else can I test them on?" Hank asked, putting his hands behind his head as they walked.

"Rumor has it labs use rats or the like," Alex said, pushing open the door out to the garage.

Hank made a face. "Rats don't have a mutant gene."

"I don't know then. Maybe just not working with things that screw with your genetics?"

Hank sighed. "How obvious in hindsight."

Alex shook his head slightly, opening the door on his favorite of the cars and getting in, "It could have been worse."

"Really?" Hank asked, brows going up in disbelief.

"You were fucking with your genetics. Yes it could have gone worse," Alex said.

"Sure doesn't feel like it," Hank snapped. "Certainly, I suppose I could be dead or unable to walk or speak but other than that."

"You say that like those aren't some pretty damn big 'other than's," Alex said.

"Sometimes that's how it feels," Hank snapped.

Alex snapped his mouth shut rather than say anything, taking three deep breaths before speaking again, "Okay. I'll shut up."

Hank hunched his shoulders. "I am not saying it's logical, is all."

"I know," Alex said after another moment. "I shouldn't've said anything."

"And yet," Hank said with a wry smile. "It seems we always say those things to each other, doesn't it? Common sense be damned."

Alex snorted, "Yeah, seems like. But hey on the plus side we don't lie to each other."

"Yes," Hank agreed again, still with the same wry smile.

"Now to figure out how to tell the truth without fighting, yeah?" Alex offered him something just shy of a grin.

Hank's eyes slid over. "You think that's possible?"

Alex shrugged, "Maybe. I dunno. I think we hit each other's buttons without always knowing when we will."

"You sure?" Hank asked. "Because at least fifty percent of it seems quite intentional."

"I didn't say it was always an accident," Alex said.

Hank drummed his fingers on the dash before remembering that just because he couldn't see them didn't mean he didn't still have claws. Folding his hands tightly in his lap, he stared at the perfect row of indents. "True," he said.

Alex glanced at the dents briefly, "I'm an asshole. I know that. I dunno, I guess it's an easy way to get your attention." His fingers twitched against the steering wheel when he realized exactly how much he'd said with that simple sentence.

For a horrifyingly long moment Hank stared out the windshield. "You want my attention?"

Alex stayed silent for a damning moment too long before shrugging, "I want attention. Sean's started ignoring me even."

"Because you bitch at him," Hank said, almost a rumble.

"Well, yeah."

"That's why he ignores you," Hank said. "So, other students will be good then, right?"

"Yeah, maybe," Alex shrugged. "Guess we'll see."

"Right," Hank said, looking out the window.

Alex pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the grocery store in Salem Center, shutting the car off, "Yeah, well, it'll be just one or two to start with, so that's....better than it could be."

"Yeah?" Hank asked, watching him too intently.

Alex didn't look at him, his fingers twitching again before he shoved open the car door and got out, "Yeah. We both know how well I get along with people."

"You don't give yourself a lot of credit in anything do you?" Hank asked.

Alex offered him a sideways glance, "Not a lot to credit."

Hank frowned, hands curling and uncurling. "Well, if you think that from the outset then you'll never allow yourself to have something to take credit for."

"Wait, are you lecturing me on being too hard on myself? Is that what I'm hearing?" Alex asked, shooting him a confused look as they entered the store.

"Well, someone clearly has to," Hank said.

"Well, what am I supposed to say, Hank? What've I got to take credit for, really?" Alex paused, "or to give myself credit for I guess."

"You can fix cars really well," Hank said, looking around the store and feeling his shoulders tense because someone was looking in their direction and he had to fight back his panic. "For starters."

Alex nodded slightly to someone he recognized from his trips out of the mansion and grabbed a basket, "Okay, that's something. Not much, but something."

"I said it was a start," Hank said and looked at his hands and then around again, deciding it would be best not to hold anything in case it interfered with the image inducer.

"Not a bad one, I guess," Alex said after a moment, turning to find some of the things he knew they needed. "So you do more cooking than I do, anything you know we're out of?"

"Yes, we're out of a lot," Hank said. "Just because I haven't seen it yet doesn't mean it isn't there."

Alex huffed a laugh, "Well, let's get at least some of that stuff bought so we aren't scraping things together, yeah?"

"Even though that leads to such interesting experiments?"

Grinning, Alex shrugged, "Well, we're here. Might as well buy a little bit more."

"I guess we could do the thing we came here to do," Hank agreed.

Alex offered him a lopsided smile, speaking quietly and conscious of how empty the aisle they were in was, "Thanks for coming out, Hank."

"Thanks? For what?" Hank asked.

"For what I said. Charles doesn't actually have a concept of what real prices are for things and Sean leads me to bad choices when it comes to food shopping," Alex said with a shrug.

Hank tried not to laugh. "You remember what my favorite food is right...?"

Alex grinned, "Yes, I was thinking we could pick some of those up too.”

"Well I guess that's one reason to leave the house," Hank said as a small child came running down the aisle, brushing against him. Hank jumped so hard he knocked into the nearby shelf, causing several boxes of pasta to fall over. The child stopped, frowning at him because he thought there had been more room in the aisle and he wouldn't hit the other.

Alex startled slightly, looking from Hank to the kid and then back, "Come on, let's get this done and we'll get back."

"Is there something wrong with you?" another shopper asked from several feet away, having seen the whole thing.

Hank startled again, turning slightly. "What? Oh. I just... it's just been—I haven't been well the last few months is all. I'm getting used to being out again, I'm fine, I'm fine now."

Alex's eyes narrowed and he sized up the other customer, "Anything else?"

"Come on," Hank said, and shoved him down the aisle before the shopper could say anything else.

Alex muttered under his breath, "You were right. Bad idea."

"It's not the worst idea," Hank said. "I'll believe that when my heart rate gets back to normal to be honest."

"Let's head back," Alex said, glancing over his shoulder. "We've got plenty for dinner tonight and I'll come do this tomorrow."

"No, it's fine," Hank said. "We're going to finish what we started."

"You sure?" Alex asked. "Cause that was a hell of a reaction."

"Hush," Hank said. His hands were curling and uncurling at his side.

Alex eyed him but kept his mouth shut, turning down another aisle. Hank followed him, hesitating and almost picking up a box before he decided not to test it.

They finished the shopping without further incident, Alex glancing at Hank once they were back in the car, "Any updates on the new student?"

"We're supposed to meet him in three days," Hank said, shifting slightly. "Of course we have encountered a slight problem."

"Slight problem doesn't sound good," Alex said, putting the car in gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

"You're currently the only one who can drive," Hank said.

"So I drive you down to..." he paused. "Oh hell, no, that's a bad idea."

Hank hummed. "As I said."

"I thought the point of this was to make a good impression on the student and family."

Hank stared at him. "I'm certain you will clean up well," he settled on finally.

"That is so not my point," Alex said. "Can't you drive?"

Hank stared at him until he finally looked over. "Really?"

"Do you want to relearn that?" Alex asked, "Obviously not going to happen in three days, but..."

"Let's take one thing at a time," Hank said, voice strained.

Alex nodded once, turning his attention back to the road, "Sean coming with, do you know?"

"I am not certain. Presumably two people would be enough but if it would make you feel better we may certainly ask him as well."

"I really do not think it's a good idea to let me so much as get out of the car," Alex said frankly.

"Is there a particular reason you feel that way?"

"You've met me right?"

"Is it a new person thing or because of their address?" Hank asked.

"Both?" Alex tried before shaking his head, "Both, mostly the second. Sean's better with people. So are you."

"And neither of us can drive yet," Hank said. "Also you're not so bad as you expect."

"So are you going or is Charles?" Alex asked.

"I guess I am," Hank said. "Charles isn't quite ready to leave the mansion yet. At least not for something like this."

Alex glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as they pulled onto the mansion grounds, "Right, okay. We're taking Sean with us."

"If you think that's wise," Hank allowed after a moment. "Then I won't argue."

"Kid's younger than Sean even, right? Might as well take the person closest to his age along."

"That's not really your motivation though," Hank said, looking at him sideways.

Alex snorted, "No, it's really not. Sean might actually be the only one of us comfortable with people. I want to use him as a buffer."

"I suppose that is an assessment I cannot disagree with," Hank said.

"Oh good," Alex said, pulling into the garage and carefully parking the car between two others.


	4. I Don't Want To Stay Here Anymore

Alex pulled the car to a stop in front of the Worthington mansion, looking past where Hank was seated in the passenger seat to take in the front facade, "You're going to make me actually go in aren't you?"

"Better than surprising the student with you later," Sean offered from the backseat, already opening his door.

"You don't have to come in," Hank said instead, his hands pressed tightly together in his lap. "It's fine," he added, more to himself than Alex.

Sean met Alex's eyes in the mirror before getting out. Alex drew a deep breath and shook his head, "Nah, I'll come in, just keep my mouth shut."

"If you like," Hank said, finally getting out of the car and rolling his shoulders back. He glanced at Sean. "You might want to be the one to knock though."

Sean nodded, waiting until Alex was out of the car before knocking on the front door, mentally counting how long it took until the door was finally opened by an honest to god butler.

Hank blinked at him, carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Hello," he greeted. "We are here to see Warren Worthington. Um. The second. In regards to his son."

The butler looked them over for a moment before stepping back and showing them to a parlor near the front door, "I shall let Mr. Worthington know that you've arrived."

Hank's shoulders sagged in embarrassment when he turned away. "Thank you."

Alex looked around the room, crossing his arms and curling in on himself without moving from where he'd slid over near one of the tall windows. Sean, meanwhile, was wandering. He paused next to a corner curio cabinet and frowned at the family picture there, "This'll be interesting."

"What?" Hank asked, looking over.

"Looks like an all-American family," Sean said, "father, mother, two boys."

"Except for the massive house and fortune," Alex said, his eyes fixed on the door.

"And the way they stand around each other even when posed to look like they're perfect together," Sean said, adding more to himself. "I'm so glad my dad hasn't inherited yet."

"Your dad hasn't what?" Hank asked as the door opened again.

Sean shook his head, looking toward the door as Warren Worthington the Second entered. The head of the Worthington family looked around the room, frowning slightly, "I was under the impression that Professor Xavier would be coming down."

"He desired very strongly to," Hank said, suddenly aware he was standing lanky and pale, with his glasses and baby face. He hadn't realized he'd gotten used to his larger bulk and more intimidating demeanor. "Unfortunately he is still adjusting to his wheelchair and could not make it today. My name is Hank McCoy and I have come in his stead as a representative of the school."

"You're awfully young," Worthington said, taking in Hank's appearance, before glancing toward Alex and Sean.

"Yes," Hank admitted. "But I also hold multiple graduate degrees."

"And these two?" Worthington asked.

Alex tensed and Sean stepped forward, "Professor Xavier thought it would be a good idea for a couple of students to come along."

"I see. And Professor Xavier is certain he can help Warren?"

"Most certain," Hank nodded. "I was led to believe we would be able to talk to him as well today?"

"Yes, he should be along momentarily. You'll be able to take him with you when you leave, yes?"

Alex shifted his weight forward at that and this time it was Sean who tensed, but neither of them said anything. Hank blinked once. "Yes," he said. "If you are content with what we have to offer and he wants to come we would more than welcome him to come today."

"Based on my conversations with Professor Xavier, I am. Warren is all packed."

Hank blinked again before inclining his head. "Alright," he said.

Worthington stepped back to the door, glancing out, "Ah, there you are. Come in and meet one of your teachers and a couple of your fellow students."

Hank shot an almost frantic look back at Sean and Alex before there was a shift next to the door and Warren stepped in. 

Once inside the room he fluffed his large white wings out, as if daring anyone to tell him to pull them back against his back and Hank's jaw dropped. Alex stared at him, blinking and glancing toward Hank before continuing to stare. 

Sean glanced toward where Worthington's brows were drawn down into what on anyone else would probably be a deep scowl. He didn't hesitate to step forward and offer Warren his hand, "Hey, I'm Sean. Nice wings."

Warren ruffled his feathers. "Aren't they?" he agreed.

Hank clicked his jaw shut, shaking himself slightly before meeting the elder Worthington's eyes again. "Yes," he said. "We will be able to help him I promise." He turned toward Warren. "Your father indicated you were already packed?"

"Yeah," Warren said, narrowing his eyes at Hank.

"That's H—" Sean caught himself before using Hank's first name in front of Worthington who'd already questioned his credentials, "Dr. McCoy. He's one of our professors."

Warren's eyes flickered over him. "A professor?"

"Yes," Hank said. "Will you need any help with your bags?"

"The servants have brought some down to the entry already," Worthington answered for his son. "We'll send the rest along soon."

Alex frowned, stepping forward, "I'll go make sure the car gets loaded so we can all get in it."

"Thank you, Alex," Hank said. Warren tilted his head at him.

"So what do you teach then?" he asked. 

"Oh, um," Hank started. "Science, mostly. We're still working on a firm schedule."

Worthington considered Hank again, "And with the school being so new, you're certain you’ll be able to provide an adequate education?"

"Yes," Hank said without hesitation.

"Good." He clasped his son's shoulder, avoiding contact with the wings as much as he could, "I've a business call to make. You've told your mother goodbye?"

Warren's wings ruffled and drooped slightly but he met his father's gaze. "Yes."

"We'll miss you son," Worthington said, drawing his hand back. Sean watched him, wondering how much of that sentence was for his and Hank's benefit rather than Warren's.

Warren's feathers shivered in the air. "I'll miss you too," he said without any inflection. Worthington nodded and left without another word or a look back.

For a long moment no one moved before Hank cleared his throat. "Are... are you really ready to go?" 

"Yes," Warren said, voice harder than it had been before. He turned away, flickering his wings out again before pulling them tight to his body.

"What are you doing?" Hank asked as he pulled a harness looking thing off the wall. 

"Can't go out in public with my wings, can I?" Warren asked.

"So you strap them down?" Sean asked, something off in his voice as he thought about how hard they would need to be held down to conceal them.

Warren shrugged. "What else am I going to do? Cut them off?" 

Hank hid his face behind his hands. "Jesus fucking Christ," he murmured and Warren's eyes darted over to him in surprise.

Alex stuck his head back in the room just in time to hear that and his eyebrows shot up but he didn't say anything, "Car's loaded." He looked at the harness in Warren's hands and something shuttered in his expression.

"Great," Hank said. "We should go."

"Did you just swear?" Warren asked.

"Yes," Hank said. "If it's alright with you, how about we go quickly?"

Warren blinked. "I don't want to stay here anymore."

"Great," Hank said.

"Hank's got front seat privileges, so you two," Alex pointed at Sean and Warren, "get to sort out the backseat yourselves."

Warren blinked, and then scowled as he finished clinching the harness shut and pulled on a coat over it. "Why?"

"Because," Hank said, breezing out of the parlor and not taking a deep breath until he was outside on the front steps of the house.

"Because he does," Alex said, hurrying to catch up to Hank.

Sean shook his head, following them, "Sorry about Alex."

Warren scowled but followed them, looking over his shoulder at the house as he went down the front steps.

"When we get to the house," Hank said, his voice tight. "I would like to take a look at that harness."

"What?" Warren asked. "Why?"

"Because I want to see if I can make it _better_ ," Hank said. "At the moment it looks positively like a medieval torture device."

Alex didn't offer his usual commendation of Hank's abilities, Sean waiting for it and then finally speaking instead as Alex got into the car and got it started, "If anyone can, it's Hank."

Warren's shoulders twitched, like he wanted to ruffle his wings again. "If you say so," he said a bit warily. "You know, my father didn't really tell me what kind of school this was, simply that it would be a place for me to go and deal with my condition."

"Your condition," Hank repeated, incredulously from the front seat.

Warren shifted, angry. "Yes," he snapped. "But I don't want it to be dealt with or taken care of. I _like_ my wings, I'm _proud_ of my wings so if you people think you can—" Hank's grip dented the entire dash in front of him and Warren stopped talking abruptly.

Sean scowled, "Not how this school works. I promise. It's meant to be a place that's safe for us."

"It's a school of mutants," Hank said, voice tightly leashed. "By and for mutants. We aren't going to try and take your wings away but give you a safe space to learn and also potentially... take advantage of your unique powers."

Alex glanced in the rearview mirror at Warren, "Are they strong enough to support your weight so you can fly or are they just for looks?"

Warren looked around the car before he settled back. "I can fly. I haven't—well—been allowed to in a while but I used to be able to."

"Awesome," Sean said, grinning. "Starting you off on the ground while you get used to it again, though."

Alex snorted at that, but didn't elaborate.

"Where else would I start?" Warren asked. 

"By being pushed off something high," Hank said. "That's how Sean here learned."

"Yeah. That sucked," Sean said.

Warren blinked at him, finally processing what Hank had said. "You're... all mutants then?"

Sean nodded, "Yeah, so's Professor Xavier."

"What," Warren started and had to start again, voice quieter and more hesitant. "What can you do then?"

"Simple description? I scream really loud," Sean said. "Hank built me a suit that helps me catch the sound waves or something. Not sure exactly how it works but basically it means I can kind of fly."

"You scream really loud?" Warren asked and then seemed to accept that. "Okay, what do they do."

"I have superhuman strength, agility, and speed," Hank said from the front seat, double checking the image inducer on his wrist. Its power was running lower than he expected. "And some other things we won't go into right now," he added under his breath.

Alex's hands twitched on the steering wheel and gearshift, "Plasma blasts."

"Oh," Warren said quietly. "And.. . this Professor Xavier?"

Alex glanced at Hank before answering, "He's a telepath. Mind stuff."

Warren blinked. "Are... there other students yet?"

"Just us so far," Sean said. "It's...slow progress but the school's really only just started."

"Were you lying to my dad?" Warren asked, a lot of his anger having seeped out as soon as Hank promised his wings were safe.

"A little bit," Hank admitted.

"It is a school, and the goal is good education along with training for our abilities," Sean said. "But it's currently just the five of us."

"We're working on it," Hank said.

"Only technically been a school for a few weeks after all," Alex said under his breath.

Hank didn't respond to that, frowning down at the image inducer still. "How close to the mansion are we?"

"Probably another thirty minutes. Maybe forty," Alex answered.

Hank frowned. "Hm," he managed. "Today was a much longer outing and the battery is performing worse than when I tested it around the mansion."

"Once we're fully out of city limits I'll push it as close as I dare. How much battery left?" Alex asked.

"I think enough," Hank said. "I'm just a little alarmed. Perhaps anger makes it harder for it to work? I hadn't thought of that."

"Things to figure out how to test, I guess," Alex said.

"Shouldn't take too long for you two to get all the data needed in that case," Sean muttered, earning himself a dark look from Alex in the mirror.

Hank blinked and then scowled before smoothing his face back out. "Cute," he said. "I think it just has to work harder then, is all."

"What's working harder?" Warren pipped up from the back seat.

"A new device Hank's testing out," Alex answered, changing lanes and edging the car over the speed limit.

"Why would being angry make the battery die faster?" Warren asked, leaning against the back of Hank's seat to poke his head around and frowning when a few inches from where he thought Hank's shoulder was he felt what seemed like fur. 

"Damnation," Hank muttered. "Until we get home, let us just say my mutation cannot be hidden by a harness, shall we?"

"Do you have _fur_?" Warren asked.

"Told you you needed to program that thing to your actual size," Alex said.

"Do you know what that would make my proportions look like as a human?" Hank asked.

"Have you bothered to try it?"

"Hey guys, remember how we're still in a car with glass windows that people can see through and maybe the battery goes dead faster if he's angry?" Sean asked from the backseat, looking out the window rather than watching Hank and Alex and sounding absent since he knew they’d probably ignore him.

"Yes, I tried it and looked like a wrestler on steroids," Hank muttered.

"Wow," Warren said, leaning back. "What color is your fur?"

"What?" Hank asked and then sighed, forcing himself to relax against the seat. "Blue."

"Whoa," Warren managed.

"So you're going to keep getting run into," Alex said, ignoring Warren's interruption.

"Do you actually have a useful suggestion?" Hank asked.

"You just shot down my useful suggestion. You're the smartest fucking person I know, but you're so damn stubborn about this."

"Jesus, Alex, do you never shut up?" Sean asked.

"You can walk, Cassidy."

"Charles would make you come back, if Hank even let you kick me out of the car in the first place."

"Which I would not," Hank said. "And I'm not _stubborn_ there are certain facts inherent in being a giant blue mutant with claws!"

Alex bounced the heel of his right hand off the top curve of the steering wheel in aggravation, "So figure it the fuck out. There's gotta be some way to make it fit your proportions and look at least somewhat normal."

"I am neither an artist nor versed in human anatomy," Hank snapped.

"Battery," Sean murmured, but was just about drowned out by Alex.

"So work _with_ someone on it for Christ's sake!"

Warren leaned over, pressing his shoulder against Sean's. "Are they always like this?"

"Who would you suggest?" Hank yelled back.

"Always," Sean said.

"Hell if I know," Alex snapped. "Me if you can stand it."

"You?" Hank repeated incredulously before he seemed to calm down. "What do you mean, if I can stand it?" he asked, in a much calmer tone of voice.

"Forget it," Alex grit out, having caught the tone of Hank's first question easily.

"I think we've gone several steps beyond that being an option," Hank said.

"I mean that you'd have to put up with me in your space a hell of a lot more than I think either of us want."

Sean resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands in exasperation.

"We're working on the car together aren't we?" Hank asked, something hesitant in his voice.

Sean started paying more attention again as Alex fell still and answered quietly, "Yeah, yeah we are."

"So are we not already establishing we can work together?" Hank asked, voice tense.

"Yeah, but this is more personal. Sure you can handle that?" Alex wasn't entirely sure _he_ could handle working with Hank and trying to help him with an image for the projection. It felt too intimate.

"At least give me the chance to try it before dismissing it out of hand," Hank said.

Alex's jaw tensed but he nodded, pulling off the interstate into Salem Center, "Alright."

Hank forced himself to relax more and Warren kept glancing over at Sean. "So," he whispered, since Alex and Hank had simmered down. "Are there any girls at the school?"

Sean bit back what could have been a hysterical laugh, "No, not right now."

Warren frowned. "But there's going to be, right?"

"That's the plan, so far as I know," Sean said. "It's not meant to be an all-boy's school."

"God, what to you people stare at all day?" Warren asked.

"Presumably each other," Hank said dryly from the front seat.

Sean started coughing, having swallowed wrong when Hank said that, "Except that I think I can count on one hand how many times we've been around each other in the last couple days."

"Walls then," Hank said even more dryly and Warren eyed Sean sideways

Alex pulled up to the front of the Xavier mansion, "Oh look, we're home, thank god."

"I'm sure we've thoroughly impressed our new student," Hank said but Warren was already out of the car, stripping off his coat and harness.

Charles appeared in the doorway of the mansion, "That took less time than I expected."

"That's nice, Charles. It took longer than we did," Alex said opening the trunk of the car and pulling out two of the bags they were able to fit.

"I didn't see any houses nearby," Warren said, flinging his wings out.

Charles smiled at that, "And you won't either. The property covers miles. At least half of the lake is technically Xavier property as well."

"Good," Warren said and launched himself suddenly into the sky.

"Wait," Hank started and then stopped, letting Warren swoop up into the sky.

"So much for starting slow," Sean said.

Alex tipped his head back enough to watch Warren for a moment before shaking his head and hauling the bags he was carrying inside, "Which room, Professor?"

"Corner room on the third story has a balcony," Charles answered.

Hank remained where he was, tipping his head back to watch Warren who was whooping in joy as he did tight corkscrew turns in the air, eventually settling on top of the satellite dish.

"He seems happy," Sean said.

Charles looked toward him, "Wouldn't you be?"

Sighing, Hank crossed his arms just as the battery on the inducer went out. "Right," he said, turning inside. "I'll go fix this."

Alex reached the bottom of the stairs just as Hank came inside, "Battery die? At least it waited ‘til we got home."

"At least," Hank agreed. "And even though he hasn't seen it he at least has been warned."

"I'm gonna go get the last two of his bags," Alex said after a pause.

Hank paused. "Sean or I could do that you know."

"You've got that thing to deal with, and Sean's..." Alex shook his head, "Already acting as chauffeur might as well get the bags."

"You're not our manual labor," Hank said softly.

Alex looked at him for a moment before he nodded, "I know. But you all have something else to contribute."

"Sean does?" Hank asked. "Did you even graduate high school, Alex?"

"I was in prison when most people my age are in high school," Alex said, crossing his arms defensively.

"That's not... Jesus Alex, that's not what I meant. If you haven't graduated high school then you're a student here, not a worker."

"So what, I'm taking our non-existent classes from you and Charles with Sean and Warren then?"

"We need to get accredited," Hank said. "Charles promised he was looking for more teachers. Don't you want to at least have a degree?"

"In _what_?" Alex asked.

"Well a high school degree," Hank said. "Anything after that would be up to you. You could go to college. At least finish a GED."

Alex sighed and finally nodded, "Yeah, okay, a GED I could probably do. I'm gonna go get those last two bags."

Hank turned to watch as he walked past. "You're. You're not stupid, Alex."

Alex glanced over his shoulder at him, "You'd know."

Hank gave him a smile full of teeth. "Yes, yes I would. So you should pay attention."

"Guess we'll see," Alex muttered stepping out the front door.

x-x-x-x

Erik walked into the kitchen, finding Emma sprawled out with a martini in front of her. "What the fuck is this?" he asked, dropping a letter addressed to him in front of her.

"What?" she asked mildly.

Raven looked up from where she had been sitting across the room, absently looking through a book without actually reading it. She set it aside and moved over so she could see the letter, "That's Charles' writing."

"Yes, I know that," Erik said. 

"You've already read it," Emma remarked, setting her finger in the middle of it and shoving it back toward Erik. "So why are you asking me what it is?"

"Why is it here?" Raven asked, tilting her head very slightly to see if she could catch a glimpse of anything actually written in it.

"Because he sent it to me," Erik ground out. 

"You're the one that kissed him in public," Emma said and Riptide dropped his glass, watching it shatter on the tiles in front of him.

"You _what_?" Raven said, turning to look at Erik and seeing Angel freeze in the doorway to the kitchen.

"How the fuck," Erik deadpanned.

"Honey," Emma said, arching a brow at him. "Really?"

Raven reached for the letter, "Well, it's here. I guess the question is what you're going to do about it."

Erik snatched the letter back. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Raven asked, "There's two options. You either write back or you don't."

Erik tensed. "Either way that's my decision to make."

"So," Riptide said, faux casual. "Did you kiss him before or after you left him on the beach?"

Erik stared at him as Emma very carefully did not laugh.

"It wasn't before," Raven said, watching Erik with a slight crease between her eyebrows.

Erik stared at her for a moment. "No, it wasn't," he agreed.

Angel spoke from where she was still standing in the doorway, "So you kissed him after that and he let you?"

"Yes," Erik said. "But I'm fairly certain my love life is not really a topic of conversation."

"It is when you bring it into the kitchen," Emma said.

"Can it be called a love life if there's one kiss and a single letter?" Raven asked absently.

"Either way," Erik snarled.

"Don't we have something we're supposed to be doing today?" Angel asked, her wings fluttering behind her.

"Yes," Erik said. "We are."

"You're the one who came in here," Emma said. "Being angry. Don't blame us for your distraction."

Erik stared at her a long moment as if the strength of his glare would harm her while she smiled serenely back at him. "Are we ready to go then?"

Azazel popped into the space next to him abruptly. "Ready when you are, boss."


	5. Merry Christmas

Alex sat curled up in one of the chairs in the front sitting room, mostly ignoring Sean and Warren and the TV they had playing while he tried to work his way through the English study that Charles had set him to when he'd spoken to the Professor about earning his GED and how far behind he thought he probably was.

"Don't you want to watch the news?" Warren asked Sean as Hank wandered into the room, his nose in a manual.

"The news is..." Sean cut himself off, leaning forward as the report on screen changed. He thought he saw Alex close the book he was reading and slide it alongside the cushion of his chair when Hank came in, but his full focus was on screen. "Alex, you're closer, turn it up?"

"Get it yourself."

"Alex," Sean said, finally getting a huff from Alex as he got up and turned the volume up.

Hank had frozen in the doorway as the reporter on the screen started talking. "We have no idea what could possibly have caused this sort of warping in the metal. The army is refusing to release what weapons were stolen or how many, and so far no group has come forward to take credit." 

"Shit," Warren said. "Look at that."

"Fuck," Alex swore, rocking back on his heels where he hadn't moved away from the TV. He looked over his shoulder at where Sean was sitting wide-eyed and then toward Hank, "There's no question is there."

"They just commented on the warped metal," Sean said, his voice faint.

"No question what?" Warren asked. 

"That this is Erik's work," Hank said. 

"Who?" Warren asked and Hank looked over at him for a long moment.

Alex shoved himself to his feet, "Another mutant."

"And you all know him?" Warren asked. 

"He can manipulate metal," Hank said.

"He's been awfully quiet," Sean said, still watching the news reports.

"Yeah for what, a month? A little over? Not all that long," Alex said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Warren was looking between them. "Does he usually do this?"

"I need to talk to Charles," Hank decided suddenly, having not taken his eyes off Warren.

"He hasn't before," Sean answered Warren.

Alex looked at Hank, "Do you want me to come?" He was tense enough it was clear that was the last thing he probably wanted to do.

"Not at all," Hank said, turning and striding out.

Warren watched him go. "He seems mad."

"I'll be in the bunker," Alex said, leaving on Hank's heels.

Sean sighed, getting up and shutting off the TV where the news had temporarily moved on to other things, "Yeah, it's still pretty raw. Erik was with us until about a month ago."

Warren looked at the blank TV. "With you?" he asked. 

x-x-x-x

Hank slammed the door to Charles' office open. "Tell me right now. Are you creating a school or an army?"

Charles startled at that, setting his pen aside, "What the hell are you talking about, Hank?"

"See, because this is what confuses me," Hank said. "You recruited all of us. You picked up cab drivers and scientists and kids out of prison but you picked up kids. Alex and Sean aren't even out of high school. And you trained us all for battle because that was your plan. Well, Warren's _fourteen_. So are you building a school or an army, Charles?"

"I'm building a school," Charles said, folding his hands on the top of his desk. "That may involve more martial training for the older students. But at its core it's a school and a place where they can learn to hone their powers for whatever cause. Why bring this to me now?"

"Erik just attacked an army base," Hank said. "He's been quiet the past month I realize. But it was an army base with military grade weapons. We not only didn't stop it, we just found out about it from the news. So. I need to know. Are we still supposed to have a team to deal with mutant threats? Or did that die on the beach in Cuba? And you have to promise me, right here and now, that the students will _not be involved_ in it."

Charles drew a deep breath at that, "Yes. We are supposed to have a team to deal with mutant threats. I can promise you that the students will not be intentionally involved in it. I will train them how I see fit to best help them. Having a team operating out of this mansion will be a threat to the school as well and I will not turn away aid with it, either."

"Aid with it?" Hank asked, slightly incredulous.

"What do you propose for this team, Hank? Alex is a legal adult, but Sean isn't. That would leave you and Alex? To face who? Erik's entire team?"

"So do you want my aid in helping the team or are you talking about accepting whoever walks through this door?" Hank asked. "Will the teachers you haven't found yet be forced to serve on it?" He shook the manual he had been reading earlier. "Charles, I'm not even certified as a teacher yet. How can you create a team and a school at the same time?"

"What would you have me say, Hank?" Charles asked. "The intention is both. School first, as evidenced by Warren's presence, but it can't stay that way for long especially if Erik's already gone after military-grade weaponry."

"Who are we turning into, Charles?" Hank yelled.

Charles paused at that, meeting Hank's gaze steadily, "Who are you afraid we're turning into, Hank?"

"Who do you think?" Hank shot back. "See, the problem is thinking back on it I have no idea why you thought any of us were ready for that beach."

"You weren't," Chares said frankly. "But we were out of time."

"But you've already proven you're willing to turn children into soldiers," Hank said.

"I'll remind you that I was ready to send you all home," Charles said, his voice quiet but his tone sharp. "You were the ones who insisted on staying and continuing."

Hank stared at him for a moment, wondering if Charles understood that by that point there was no choice left between going home and saving the world. He wanted to tell Charles never to offer that choice to another student. "Alright," he said instead. "I'm sorry. I overreacted when Warren asked who Erik is."

"This is a school first and foremost, Hank. I give you my word on that," Charles said.

"Good," was all Hank could say any more.

"Is there anything else, Hank?"

"No," Hank said and paused. "I'm working on my accreditation, just so you know."

Charles offered him a small smile, "Good, I'm glad to hear it."

"Might as well be official," Hank said, turning and walking out of the office.

Alex was a little ways down the hallway where he had clearly been listening, having abandoned his idea of the bunker almost as soon as he'd left the room downstairs.

Hank froze. "I thought you’d be going to the bunker?"

"Changed my mind," Alex said, looking toward the door of Charles' study and then back at Hank.

"And you eavesdropped instead?" Hank asked, not even really a question.

Alex nodded, "Yeah. Problem with that?"

"Several," Hank said.

"Even if I say I'm on your side in the argument you just had?"

That brought Hank up and he looked over at the wall. "That wasn't—I mean—"

"Wasn't an argument? What do you call it then?"

"I," Hank started and paused. "I don't know."

"You're right though," Alex said after a moment, turning to go back down the hall. "We weren't ready. We're still not."

Hank rubbed a hand over his face. "I think we've gone a little beyond that point," he said and then paused. "Did you ever try the new suit I made you?"

"Yeah. It's helped. Lot of metal to it though if Charles actually expects us to face Erik ever."

"I can work on that," Hank said after a beat.

Alex shrugged slightly, "If you have time."

"I'm sure I can make the time," Hank said awkwardly. "You haven't actually asked me for much."

Alex twitched his shoulders into what might have been a shrug, "I don't need much."

"You don't ask for things either," Hank said.

"Why would I?" Alex asked, looking at Hank. "I don't need them."

Hank looked away. "Alright. I should, I guess... go."

"Yeah, okay," Alex said, not looking at Hank. "I think I'm actually going to the bunker this time if, y'know, if you need anything."

"Sure," Hank said. Alex hesitated and then turned abruptly toward the well-trod route to the bunker, leaving Hank behind.

x-x-x-x

Alex stepped out of the rare bookseller's he'd found on one of his trips into the city with Charles. His purchase was carefully wrapped and cradled in the crook of his left arm as he turned toward where he'd parked the car. He nearly tripped as he tried to dodge a woman about his own age. As she turned to tell him off, they both recognized the other. Alex's expression dropped into a scowl, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Angel tensed, feeling her tattoos quiver under her coat, "I've got as much right to be here as you do. It's a big city."

"You just happen to be here after that mess that made the news? Yeah, somehow I doubt that."

"Hey, I'm not the walking bomb here," she said. "Sure you should be around people, _Havok_? Maybe they should have left you in prison."

"You don't know a goddamn thing," he said, sensing his temperature rising and having to force it down again.

"I know you're the reason Darwin's dead," she said, slamming the verbal knife she knew home.

"He wouldn't have even been there if you hadn't taken Shaw's hand," Alex snapped.

"And if you two had let me make my own decision he'd still be here." She took a half step away from him, "But it wasn't my power Shaw gained to make him eat, was it?"

Alex shifted forward and then realized where they were and how hot his core was, "Fuck you."

"Get more creative, Alex. You're a broken record. I didn't kill Darwin, so go crawl back into wherever Xavier has you holed up and deal with the fact that you can't blame anyone else for your mistakes," Angel said, turning on her heel and disappearing down the street before he could say anything else.

Alex swore, kicking the tire of the car before getting into the driver's side and tossing his purchase across to land on the passenger seat. He broke more than a few speed limits getting back to the mansion, feeling his power pulsing under his skin. Slamming the car door as he got out he headed straight for the bunker, the package left forgotten in the car.

x-x-x-x

Angel stormed into the base they were living in, yanking off her coat and letting her wings unfurl, wrapping the one Alex had damaged in the fight on the beach around enough to catch the tip of it. She ran her fingers carefully over the delicate membrane, letting the other wing beat in time with her gradually slowing breaths.

"You done yet?" Emma asked, walking into the room, one hand braced against her forehead.

Angel looked toward Emma, looking away almost as quickly as she stroked her fingers over the recently knit skin again, "Sorry."

"Please, if I couldn't handle intense emotions I wouldn't be able to be around Riptide most days," Emma drawled. "Now, what in the name of god happened?"

"Alex Summers," Angel muttered, finally feeling just steady enough to let go of her wing, shaking it out and letting it match the other one's pace for a moment before willing them back into tattoos. "I never—but he—and they—" She shook her head in frustration with herself.

"Would you like a drink and to attempt those sentences with actual words in them again?"

"God yes. A drink sounds amazing."

"Alright," Emma said, turning and strolling back through one of Shaw's old clubs. It had been closed down since he died, and Erik kept making noises about going somewhere—anywhere—else but it hadn't happened yet.

It also meant she knew where the best drinks were hidden.

Angel followed her, quiet for a moment before she spoke, "He blames me for Darwin's death. He can go to hell for all I care, but that right there is not something I need to have on my conscience because it wasn't my damn fault." She spoke with conviction but there was a very faint note that belied it, as though she was still making the argument to herself.

"Alex Summers is the one with the red energy, correct?" Emma said after a beat.

"Yeah, that's him. Darwin, well, he was something. He and Alex had some sort of last ditch effort to keep me from going with Shaw." Angel grimaced, "Because I couldn't even make that decision for myself apparently."

Emma blinked once. "And Darwin died."

"He was supposed to be able to adapt to anything," Angel said. "Except we didn't really know Shaw's power. Alex, like you said, fires energy. Shaw made Darwin swallow it. I didn't see what happened, but..." She looked away, "So yeah. Saw Alex today for the first time since he ruined my wing."  
Emma hummed, considering her. "So this boy died and you promptly upon meeting the other one, brought it up?"

"Not promptly," Angel said, glancing away, "But soon enough."

"So are you mad at him or yourself?" Emma asked, leaning back.

"Him," she said promptly before sighing, and admitting, "both."

Emma hummed. "Yes. Well. You watched someone die and walked away with his murderer. He took your wing. Can you still fly?"

"Not yet," She said. "It's not healed enough to hold my weight again. Nearly, but not quite." She shifted that shoulder so Emma could see the place where the tattoo lines were fainter and slightly blurred.

Craning her neck, Emma nodded after a beat. "But it is healing."

"Yeah, hopefully I'll be flying again by the New Year." Angel paused, frowning slightly at Emma, "You're a telepath, you ought to be able to tell this shouldn't you?"

"Oh sure, if I made a habit of regularly wandering into people's minds who neither want or need me there," Emma said dryly. "Besides, people seem to want to slack off when there's a telepath in the room. Like oh just figure it out yourself, they say, just read my mind, as if actually putting things into words is totally irrelevant."

Angel's lips actually twitched upward at the corners at that, "You know, that's a pretty damn good philosophy actually."

"Thank you," Emma said primly.

Angel took a sip of the drink Emma had poured her, "I never wanted to replace you, you know. I just bought what he was selling."

For a moment Emma blinked before she snorted. "With Shaw you mean?"

"Yeah, him."

Emma considered her. "Not that I'm encouraging stupidity or following blindly, but I get it. I do. I was younger than you were and the man's a predator. Was, rather. I'd been trying to figure out how to kill him for at least the last twelve months."

Angel blinked at her, "Younger than—how o—no, you know what I know better than to ask that."

"Yes dear," Emma said, giving her a smile with all her teeth. "It's good you do because I would never answer it."

Angel bit back a small laugh at that, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me talk I guess."

"It is a surprisingly underdeveloped and unappreciated skill," Emma said, sipping daintily at her own drink.

Angel grinned, something belying the expression in her eyes but she nodded, "More people should practice it."

Emma watched her. "Is there anything else?"

She paused before shaking her head, "No, I think that's it."

Emma hummed, reaching the bottom of her glass. "If you say so."

x-x-x-x

Hank staggered into the kitchen around six am and stopped when he saw Warren already there. "What?" he managed, fumbling around for coffee. 

Inching along the counter to give him room, Warren stared at him. "It's Christmas morning," he said slowly. "Doesn't _everyone_ get up early on Christmas morning?"

Hank froze. "Oh," he managed. "Oh _damn_."

Sean came into the kitchen looking far too bright eyed for the hour, "Oh good, you're up."

Alex trailed in behind Sean looking like he was still half asleep, "If there isn't coffee, Sean is not living to see sunrise."

"My need is greater than yours," Hank said. "The coffee is brewing as we speak."

"Sean's dead to me," Alex muttered, blinking blearily at Hank as he moved over to where the coffee was brewing. "Did you even sleep last night?"

"No," Hank said, batting him away. "That's why I get the first cup, you stay there."

"Fuck you, there is more than one cup to a pot of coffee," Alex grumbled.

Sean leaned against the counter looking vaguely amused, "Should we wake the professor?"

"Why didn't you sleep?" Warren asked, hovering nearby Hank. 

"I got distracted," he mumbled, still eying Alex. 

"You can do that?" Warren asked and Hank closed his eyes. 

Opening them again, he forced himself to focus on Sean. "What did you ask?"

"I asked if we should wake the professor," Sean repeated.

"Depends, do you have caffeine ready for him?" Alex asked, sounding like he was falling asleep again standing up.

"If everyone else is awake I presume he'll have to wake up some time," Hank said. "Soon." He blinked. "Isn't it traditional to open presents early in the morning?"

"Yes," Warren chirped and Hank stared at him.

Sean went and filled the kettle, setting it to boil, "We should light the fire in the room with the tree."

"Let me get a cup of coffee in me first and then I'll do it," Alex muttered.

Hank made a satisfied noise when the coffee pot finally went off. "Oh thank god," he muttered. 

"I am so glad I've gotten used to you people," Warren said, sitting on the counter and swinging his legs, his wings spread out behind him.

"So are we," Sean said as Alex grabbed two mugs down, leaning most of his weight on the counter. "You know, I'm gonna go get that fire lit."

"You're not handling matches," Alex said, shoving one of the mugs toward Hank.

"I can light a fire in a fireplace, Alex."

Hank blinked at the coffee, having been moving too slow. "Oh. Um. Wait. No, Alex sounds like a better fire lighter. Wait. That sounds incorrect."

"I'm fairly sure I'm the better option right now," Sean said. "Since y'know, I can keep my eyes open without caffeine."

"Fuck you, Cassidy," Alex muttered, curling himself around his coffee.

"I could start the fire?" Hank tested out.

"You haven't slept," Sean said.

Alex nodded his agreement with that assessment, not really noticing when Sean dug a book of matches out of one of the drawers in the kitchen until Sean was headed out the door.

"Oh no, watching Hank set the house on fire would be very interesting," Warren said. 

Hank paused, as if finally processing something. "Wait," he managed. "I'm supposed to be your teacher."

"Yeah?" Warren said and Hank sighed.

"You're technically supposed to be mine too," Sean called over his shoulder, before disappearing down the hall.

"Chaos. That's what this is," Alex said pouring himself a second cup of coffee as Charles wheeled into the kitchen looking drowsy but more awake than Alex had.

Hank stared at Alex in mute horror for a second. "This isn't going to work," he said not quite having processed Charles. "At least I'm not supposed to be _your_ teacher."

"Technically haven't graduated yet," Alex said. "But no, you're not."

Charles raised an eyebrow at that, accepting the mug of tea that Alex handed him, the tea itself still steeping, "What?"

"I have come to the abrupt realization that I have pre-emptively failed as a teacher to both Sean and Warren as they will never respect me as long as we live. At least, not in the ways a student-teacher dynamic is supposed to function."

Alex snorted and Charles' lips quirked up, "I see. That's rather the revelation to come to on Christmas morning."

"Well," Hank said and went through the whole cup of coffee in one long motion.

Sean stuck his head back into the kitchen, "So I got the fire started. _Without_ burning anything else I might add. We should move into that room instead of here."

"But the coffee's here," Alex said.

"Maybe I could make a mobile coffee pot," Hank said, more to himself than anyone else, pouring himself another cup of coffee before wandering into the room with the Christmas tree. Alex topped off his own cup before following as Charles wheeled himself out of the room.

"Oh," Hank said as if in some surprise. "There are presents. Under the tree and everything."

"That's how Christmas usually goes," Sean said from where he was sitting cross-legged close enough to the tree be able to pass out presents to their correct recipients. Alex lowered himself down to sit on the floor in front of one of the armchairs.

"Right," Hank said, sinking down on the couch while Warren bounced around Sean.

Sean batted an errant wingtip away from his face as he reached for the gifts and passed them out, noting the way Alex blinked in confusion as he accepted his. Hank for his part also looked surprised.

Sean looked around, his fingers curling carefully around the package his parents had sent him. They were in Ireland with his father's side of the family for Christmas, but he'd decided not to go that year and they planned on seeing him on their way back home, "Well, Merry Christmas."

Hank frowned at the tiny package his own parents had sent, that had been forwarded from his last address even as Warren happily started tearing paper and tape apart.

Alex pulled one leg up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee as he carefully slit the tape on one of the gifts, his attention more on Hank than on what was in front of him.

Charles untied the bow around a small box that was labeled as being from both Alex and Hank. He blinked in confusion at the set of car keys that he pulled out, "What—?"

Alex looked in his direction, "Oh, it's, okay it's a car you already own. But Hank, that is, we. You can drive it now."

"We modified it for you," Hank said. "Hard to wrap that though." He was squinting at the package that claimed to be from Alex, having considered each little box in front of him in turn without opening any of them until he got to the significantly bigger one.

"Modified?" Charles looked between the two of them, "Both of you?"

Alex offered him a hesitant smile, "Yeah, what do you know, we can work together. But yeah, it's something you can drive on your own—it's one that'll fit your chair in the backseat too."

Charles smiled softly, "Thank you both."

"You're welcome," Hank mumbled.

"You are going to actually open something, right?" Warren asked, looking over at Hank.

Alex watched Hank from the corner of his eye as Sean looked up too, "Half the point of opening gifts with everyone is to see what other people got too, after all."

"That's not," Hank sighed and obediently opened Sean's gift first.

Alex resisted the urge to simply shove the gift from him into Hank's hands as he tried to turn part of his attention away from Hank.

Finally, after having exhausted all but the present from his family, Hank sighed and stared again at the box from Alex, before warily looking across the room at him. Alex was focused on his hands, apparently ignoring Hank, folding and unfolding a scrap of wrapping paper until it was more crease than pattern.

Warren had already started flying up and down the stairs with the camera his parents had sent him when Hank finally pried the paper off the box. He uncovered the first portion of the gift and came to a complete standstill.

Sean was halfway out the door to see about hot chocolate but paused when he saw how still Hank had gotten. Alex heard Hank stop and finally looked up, uncertainty clear in his expression for once.

"It's a giant ball of yarn," Hank said, without any inflection.

Sean looked about ready to bang his head against the doorframe, and rather than watch the disaster any further strode out of the room, calling up the hall, "Hey, Warren, you want cocoa?"

Alex shifted back, curling an arm around his legs, "Yeah."

"Am I supposed to take up knitting?" Hank asked.

"You could. I forgot to get you needles," Alex said, willing to escape into that excuse.

Charles sighed quietly from where he was watching them.

"Right," Hank said, picking up the bright red ball, carefully wound up and squinting at it.

Alex turned his focus back to folding and unfolding the paper, speaking nearly inaudibly, "There's something else."

Hank paused before looking back at the bottom of the box. He carefully set aside the ball of yarn and pulled out the book instead, freezing all over again. Alex glanced up, nearly ripping the weakened paper as he did so. Hank met his eyes, staring at him across the room for a long moment without coming up with a single thing to say.

Alex dropped his gaze again, scooping up the few gifts he'd had and getting to his feet, "Merry Christmas, Hank."

Hank's mouth opened and closed and he abandoned the gifts in a neat pile on the couch, fleeing back to the kitchen.

Alex watched him go before retreating to his room upstairs to put his own gifts away, nearly getting bowled over by Warren as he did so, "Hey watch it!"

Warren hung upside down in the air in front of him. "Isn't it early to be this cranky?"

"Isn’t it early to be so damn cheerful?" Alex shot back.

"Did your gifts not go over well?" Warren asked.

"Not your business if they did or didn't. Move."

"I'm not in your way," Warren pouted but took off for the next flight of stairs before going out the third story window.

Alex got the gifts put away and waited for a long moment, breathing deeply, before going back down stairs. He ignored Sean's question about what he'd been thinking with the yarn and entered the kitchen, "You want help with breakfast?"

"No," Hank said automatically.

Alex's eyes narrowed and he drew a deep breath almost willing to admit he deserved that. He stepped around the edge of the kitchen to the fridge, pulling out the carafe of juice that was in there, "Okay then."

For a moment Hank pretended to ignore him before he gave up on that, turning. "I am not an animal," he said, trying to keep his voice level only it turned into a snarl.

Alex set the juice down on the counter carefully and turned to face Hank, "I know that."

"Really?" Hank asked. "Beast, furball, a ball of yarn?"

"I called you furball _once_ and then stopped. The yarn was not a good idea," Alex said, tensing even as he knew he shouldn't be arguing about it.

"And the book?" Hank asked.

Alex looked suddenly defensive, "What about the book?"

"It's lovely," Hank said. "Which is what I don't get."

"The yarn was a dumb joke. Okay? It was stupid. It wasn't funny. And I should have pulled it out," Alex crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

"How can you be so kind and cruel in the same moment?" Hank asked.

Alex visibly flinched at that question, "Because I'm an asshole, Hank. Because I don't think. I just don't think about how things are going to actually look, or be."

Hank let out a long breath, hunching his shoulders as he turned away again. Alex tensed again as Hank turned away but uncrossed his arms long enough to put the juice away and head for the door.

"It's a joke for between friends," Hank said. "I know that much. Even if I don't know much about friendship."

Alex froze, just shy of the doorway, "What are you saying?"

"We aren't friends," Hank said. "As far as I can tell we aren't friends."

Alex's fist clenched at that, "Yeah sure. Already said it was a mistake."

"That's not—" Hank started. "Just because we aren't doesn't mean we _can't_. You... call me bozo and furball and noticed I like Twinkies and insist I should accept myself while making it as difficult to do that as possible. I don't get it, Alex. I don't know what you _want_ from me."

"Yeah? Well, if you figure it out let me know and then maybe we'll both have an idea," Alex said, glancing over his shoulder.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Hank asked.

Alex turned to face him again, "It means I don't have a fucking clue either, what do you think it means?"

"One generally has some idea of what they want from other people," Hank said. "I was asking what you want from me and your response was you don't know?"

"Damn it, Hank. _Yes_ I don't know!" Alex snapped, feeling his temper rise in part because he knew he was actually lying to Hank. But there was no way in hell he was going to be honest about what he wanted.

Hank stared at him. "How do you survive being so unaware of yourself?"

Alex gaped at him for a long moment, "Fuck. You."

"Yes I'm the one being such a problem right now!"

"I'd love to be able to tell you what I want because that would solve so much," Alex snapped, though the last two words were laced with enough sarcasm that he was almost afraid it made apparent the lie he'd already said.

Hank blinked at him. "Wouldn't it?" he asked.

Alex tensed, looking at Hank, "I don't know. But knowing us? Probably not."

"Jesus _Christ_ , Alex," Hank said, putting his face behind his hands. "Can we at least _try_ and get along?"

"I thought we _had been_ ," Alex said.

"I don't know," Hank admitted. "Were we?"

"We weren't?" Alex looked stung at that.

"I don't know," Hank admitted. "You threw a wrench at me yesterday when we were trying to finish the car. We aren't actually _fighting_ less."

Alex looked away, "Yeah, okay, maybe you're right."

"So why are we still fighting?" Hank asked. "Neither of us sounds like we want to."

"What do you want me to say, Hank?"

"When you find a problem you're supposed to work out hypotheses for possible solutions and then put those speculations into action and see what happens," Hank said. "There's nothing I want you to say except to start figuring out if we don't want to fight, how are we not going to?"

"Seriously?" Alex stared at him like he'd grown another head, "Hypotheses?"

Hank frowned. "Why not?"

"Because people aren't science experiments!" Alex said, raking a hand over his hair.

"I," Hank's face twisted. "I _know_ that."

"Then why do you think it would work like that?"

"Because I'm tired no other solution has presented itself!"

Alex watched him for a long moment, crossing his arms again, "Maybe there isn't another solution."

"So we're just going to bicker and snipe and fail for, what, however many years we live here and then we'll drift away or Charles will implode and we'll all leave, or whatever happens and that's it, we're never friends, we never get each other, and sometimes years down the road we'll both go oh yes, there was that time I knew that person but I haven't seen or heard from him in years because what is there to keep us together or in communication because we can't sort our damned selves out?"

Alex fell still at that, speaking quietly like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, "You, you want us to work it out? You want us to be friends?"

"I'd rather that than any other outcome!" Hank snapped, defensive and hurt.

"Okay," Alex said, still quiet though his tone had shifted slightly. "Okay, we'll try it your way."

Hank abruptly looked down, folding his arms over his chest. "I've never really... been good at friends. I... didn't really have many growing up... or... anything."

"You say that like I have," Alex said. "We're both flying blind. No wonder we're doing so badly."

A short laugh escaped Hank finally. "Oh. Oh is that why?"

"Probably some of it," Alex said after a pause. "More likely it's because we hit each other's buttons."

Hank paused and almost smiled. "Do I hit your buttons, Alex Summers?"

Alex tensed at that, hearing a double-pronged question in Hank's words whether it was there or not, but responded in kind, "Can't think why else you make me go off so quick."

"No other reason whatsoever?" Hank asked.

"Okay, no you do have to tell me what you're getting at. I'm not the mind-reader in this place," Alex said, dodging around every answer that came immediately to mind.

"What?" Hank asked.

"What other reasons do you think I would have?"

"I—I don't know. Some secret hatred of fast runners? I'm just trying to figure you out, it's taking a while."

"I'm not that confusing am I?" Alex asked, tipping his head back slightly.

"Maybe not to other people," Hank said.

"I don't think it's anything except button pushing," Alex said after a moment.

"I should," Hank started and cleared his throat. "Finish breakfast."

"You sure you don't want a hand with that?" Alex asked, the words almost a peace offering.

Hank stopped before nodding. "Yeah. Thank you, though."

Alex paused in the doorway, glancing back at Hank and finally actually saying the words he'd been avoiding since the yarn showed up in the gift, "I'm sorry about the yarn, Hank. Really." With those words he slipped out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at that, we got the Christmas chapter out within a week of Christmas! Hope you all had good holidays and we'll see you in the New Year!


	6. I've Faced Scarier Men Than You

On a Saturday late in January, Charles felt a brush of someone he didn't recognize at the limits of the grounds. Capping his pen and putting his current letter to Erik in the top drawer of his desk he sent out a mental call, _There's an unknown guest coming up the drive. Hank, Warren, you'll need to conceal or stay out of sight._ He wheeled out of his study and down the hall to the front entry as the car pulled to a stop in front of the mansion.

Hank met him there, safely under the image inducer. He still hadn't fixed how it made him appear, but the battery was much more powerful. "Do you know who it is?"

"I can't get a solid read on them," Charles said, shaking his head. "Either of them," with them closer to the door he was able to make out two minds though one was completely shielded.

"Is that usual?" Hank asked.

"No," Charles said as there was finally a knock on the door.

Hank paused before he turned around and pulled the door cautiously open.

The two people on the doorstep made an interesting pair. The woman was of average height and slender, pale with her black hair pulled up into a loose bun, and with two distinct tattoos trailing from the outside corners of her blue eyes and taking a sharp turn down her cheeks. In contrast, her companion was tall and broad, his skin black and his hair long, with a large M tattooed over his right eye. She spoke first, "Good afternoon. We're here to speak with Professor Xavier?"

"That would be him," Hank said, pointing to Charles in the chair and otherwise not reacting.

Charles wheeled himself forward, "You have me at a disadvantage I fear. You seem to know my name, but I don't recognize either of you."

There was something strange in the man's face for a moment before he blanked his expression back out. He looked distinctly uncomfortable in the thin shirt and jeans and leather jacket he was wearing, shifting like he was used to wearing or carrying something heavier. Yet he turned to the woman beside him, as if unsure what to say.

She straightened her own long leather coat, the lining helping with the cold where her black slacks and deep red shirt wouldn’t, "Considering it's January in New York do you think we might step inside?"

"Names please," Charles said, not denying entry but not permitting it either.

She pursed her lips, "Sage. And this is Bishop."

Charles' brow rose, "Of course you are. Come in. We'll speak in the front drawing room."

"What does that mean?" Bishop asked and Hank had been staring too obviously at the M over his eye.

"That means that you gave me as little information as possible," Charles said. "But I agree that it's too cold to have this conversation on the front steps."

Bishop frowned at him but stepped inside. Craning his neck back, he considered the mansion from the inside, something hovering at the edges of his expression. 

"Are you," Hank started and fumbled the question.

Sage turned her attention to him, "Are we what?" Charles led the way to the front drawing room, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sage slipped her coat off, but draped it where she could access it quickly.

Hank looked at Bishop again. "Mutants," he finished faintly.

Sage nodded once, "Yes. I don't think we got your name?"

Hank shifted. "Hank McCoy," he said, more a mumble than anything else.

She blinked twice, "I read your dissertation. I hadn't realized you were here."

"You," Hank started. "What?"

"What was it on?" Bishop asked, turning his head to look at his companion.

"The title's long and complicated, but biochemistry was the field, if I remember correctly?" She looked to Hank, "Some of it has been done before, but you had a few ideas in there that were breakthroughs. It's a pity it hasn't been carried further, honestly."

"There have been other things to occupy me at the moment," Hank said, almost shrinking down into an even smaller form than the image inducer allowed.

"I wasn't just meaning you," Sage said. "The field as a whole could learn from that dissertation."

Charles glanced toward Hank and cleared his throat, "Yes, I'm certain they could. What brought the two of you here?"

Bishop looked at Sage again.

Sage tipped her head ever so slightly to the left as she considered Charles, "I've heard rumors of this becoming a school for mutants."

Charles blinked once, "I'd be fascinated to hear where you heard that as I've not actually put that information about to be easily gathered."

"That's something we can discuss later. What we're here to do is offer you help with that goal," Sage said, sitting down on the couch and crossing one knee over the other.

"I feel like we should discuss that now," Hank said after a beat and Bishop was staring at him. "It... It probably matters."

"It was a matter of making connections. Something I'm good at, it's part of my ability," Sage said, fudging and simplifying her power. "I knew about Cuba. I had contacts in the CIA. We," she inclined her head toward Bishop to indicate she meant the two of them rather than the CIA "recognized Lehnsherr's signature at that military base in December. But no reports of coercion which I would expect from a telepath's involvement typically."

"That explains why you didn't think I was still with him, but not how you found us or what made you think it was a school," Charles said calmly.

She offered him a long look, "You can quit trying to skim off my outer thoughts, I don't broadcast. Call it a secondary level to my ability. It's once again down to connections, this time with the Worthington family who have been...cagey about their eldest son for a couple of years. Mutation develops young. And then he was suddenly shipped off to a boarding school? In the middle of the school year?" Sage's lips curled upward slightly, "It's not that difficult to find out about your ancestral home either, Professor."

Hank was watching Bishop during the exchange. "But there is something else too. Right? Connections even with all of that isn't quite enough." 

"I had heard the name Xavier," Bishop said after a moment of silence. "As if in a dream or vision. That name and a school."

"You get visions of the future?" Hank asked, frowning.

"Something like that," Bishop said after a beat. "Vague and indistinct as they are."

Charles shot a sharp glance at Bishop, sensing more to the 'something like that' but not getting anything from the surface and not going deeper, "I see. And so you came here to offer your services?"

Sage was watching Bishop but she nodded, "Yes, that's about the sum of it."

"Yes," Bishop agreed solemnly.

Charles looked from Bishop to Sage, resting his elbows on the arms of his wheelchair and steepling his fingers, "And you expect me to take you at your words? You'll have to pardon me for mistrusting that."

"Do you have anyone else offering?" Bishop asked and Hank winced, a shade too obvious.

Charles' lips twitched downward in a nearly imperceptible frown, "You've made your point. On a probationary status, you're welcome to stay here and we would welcome the aid with setting up the school."

Bishop folded his arms over his chest, looking at Sage again before focusing on Charles. He was frowning at him.

Sage's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, "Do you intend this to be a welcoming environment for mutants or not, professor Xavier? Because thus far—"

"Thus far you have shown up on my doorstep with information you shouldn't have and handed me the barest of truths. Erik Lehnsherr was more honest with me than I think either of you are being. I intend for this to be a safe place for mutants, and I am not yet sure I trust either of you in that regard. So yes, probationary status as we see whether you gain that trust," Charles said, meeting her gaze steadily.

Hank's eyes flickered over to Charles as Bishop's frown only became more pronounced. "Erik?" he asked. "Magento?"

Charles' gaze darted to him, "Where did you hear that name?" To the best of his knowledge it hadn't seen much use if any since Raven bestowed it upon Erik at the CIA base.

"Honesty has never been his problem," Bishop said.

Charles frowned, "No it hasn't. Now, I've given you what I can for now. We have rooms for the two of you as well, if you're still interested in staying."

"I'm not lowering my shields," Sage said after watching him for a moment.

Charles snorted, "I wouldn't expect you to. If I wanted the truth that badly there are easier routes than your mind. But I'm more inclined to let the both of you prove yourselves."

Hank and Bishop were both openly staring at Charles.

Sage rose smoothly to her feet leaning in close and resting her hands on the arm rests of Charles' chair, "You want honesty? I've faced scarier men than you. I've shut down my powers because of them. And I'll be damned if you sabotage this ideal because you don't trust anyone after getting burned. Bishop and I are here to _help you_. So get your head out of your ass and accept that."

Charles tilted his head back slightly before he smiled, "Good." Sage backed off and he offered her his hand, his entire demeanor more relaxed, "Welcome, truly."

"You are a piece of work, Xavier," Sage said, considering his hand for a long moment before shaking it.

Hank seemed to shake himself out of something, focusing back on the new arrivals. "What are your powers?" he asked. "I mean, since we'll all be in the same house that seems like a good disclaimer."

"I record and analyze data," Sage said, glancing toward Hank, "including genetic codes. I also have an immunity to telepathy."

Bishop considered. "I can absorb energy and redirect it."

Charles fell very still and looked at Hank, "You can...what?"

"I can absorb most forms of energy and expel it from my body," Bishop said.

"Oh dear," Charles murmured. "This will be interesting."

"Why?" Bishop frowned.

"What do you know of Sebastian Shaw?" Charles asked, rubbing at his temple.

"A wealthy man with an ego the size of Texas," Sage offered.

Charles nodded once, "Also a megalomaniacal mutant with a similar power to yours, Bishop."

"Yet I am not him," Bishop said, a bit stiffly.

"No, you're not. It may be a problem with at least one of the students, though," Charles said quietly.

"Because you fought with this Shaw?" Bishop asked.

"Because Shaw absorbed his power and killed a dear friend of his," Charles said.

Bishop blinked and looked at Sage as if asking her for something. Sage met Bishop's gaze and then turned her attention back to Charles, "You're very blunt about this. Somehow I expected more subtlety. But we appreciate the warning, it lets us know better what to expect."

Charles inclined his head ever so slightly to her, "You both caught me off guard, I fear my subtlety is not what it has been."

"Hm," She looked him over. "You mentioned there were rooms?"

"I'll show you," Hank said a shade too quickly. "There are three others here, at the moment. Only one of them has an obvious mutation."

"Thank you," Sage said, turning her attention toward Hank. "And only one?"

"The two others aren't physical," Hank said and then frowned at her when he fully processed what she was asking.

She nodded slightly, "Good to know. And they're all students?"

"Technically," Hank said after a beat.

"And it's just you and Professor Xavier as teachers?"

"Um," Hank looked at his feet. "Technically."

"Well it's a start," Sage said after a moment, stepping out of the sitting room.

Hank waited until they were halfway up the stairs. "Actually, we really do need the help. I'm not sure why Charles was acting like that."

Sage glanced at him, "You aren’t?"

Hank stared at her. "I just said that, didn't I?" he asked, a shade sharply.

She sighed, "Sorry, yes you did. I would guess that he doesn't want us here because he didn't invite us."

"Which is something he'll have to get over if this is to be a safe place for mutants," Hank said, pushing the door open to one of the guest rooms and Warren hung upside down from the third story stairs to get a look at the newcomers.

Sage paused with her hand on the door and looked toward Warren and where Sean was leaning on the railing behind him, "Yes, he will."

Hank turned his head to follow her gaze and sighed. "Warren."

"Well, you're giving them a guest room," he said, spreading his wings out. "Figure they'd have to see me at some point if they're staying, right?"

That earned a smile from Sage, "They're very nice wings. You seem to have a good grasp of maneuverability with them too."

"I've been able to practice a lot finally," Warren said, with a pleased smile.

"Good, practice is always a good thing to have," Sage said, tipping her head slightly to the side and looking toward Sean. "What's your ability?"

"Banshee screams. Sort of. Don't know the full extent yet."

"He can fly too," Warren said. "But not as well as me."

"It’s more guided gliding, sort of. I can't take off from the ground."

Bishop was staring at both of them like he wanted to be sick. 

"Why do you have an M over your eye?" Warren asked, cocking his head while still upside down.

"You just met him, maybe wait to ask the personal questions," Alex's voice came from further down the second floor hall.

"It's not personal," Warren said. "Is it?" 

"No," Bishop said. "It's not personal. Neither is why I have it."

"Still not what you ask someone when you first meet them," Alex said, sizing both Sage and Bishop up before offering his hand to whichever of them was inclined to take it. "Alex Summers."

Bishop was the first to take the hand. "Bishop," he said, the only name he had given.

"Good to meet you," Alex said, genuinely meaning it in the moment as he drew his hand back and looking to Sage.

She shook his hand as well, "Sage. Seems we've met everyone now."

"Yes," Hank confirmed and then looked at Bishop. "Do you want two separate rooms or just one?"

Bishop blinked at him. "What?"

"I assume two," Hank said. "But I wanted to be sure."

"Two," Sage confirmed. "We're not together."

Hank nodded. "I—just didn't want to assume one way or the other is all." He said nothing about the way Bishop seemed adrift and confused, constantly looking over his shoulder like he expected an attack.

Sage glanced at Bishop, "If there's adjoining ones, though that would be appreciated."

Hank nodded. "There isn't but these are right next door and no one else is currently living on this floor."

Sage looked at Bishop to see if that would work for him.

Bishop nodded. "Thank you."

Sean finally pushed away from the railing, "Come on, Warren, you were going to show me that new maneuver you were practicing yesterday."

"Yes," Warren chirped, flipping midair to land on his feet with the aid of his wings.

Alex shook his head, muttering something about Warren showing off. Sean ignored him and followed Warren out.

"Don't blame him for that," Hank said, watching Alex.

Alex offered Hank a long, pointed look that lingered on his wrist where the image inducer was before he shrugged, "I wasn't."

Hank frowned. "Yes you were," he said. "You're calling him a show-off for loving to fly when he wasn't allowed to most of his life."

"Are we seriously having this fight here and now?" Alex asked.

"No," Hank said after a beat. "Sorry."

"Do you fight often?" Bishop asked.

Alex's jaw tensed at the question but he nodded once, "Yeah."

Sage leaned against the doorframe of the room they were in front of, "How often?"

"Too often," Alex said, honestly.

Hank frowned. "Is that actually your business?" 

"If you're a teacher and he's a student, isn't that odd?" Bishop asked, like he didn't really know the answer.

"I'm not actually a student," Alex said. "Not his anyhow."

"See, so it's perfectly acceptable," Hank said stiffly, "If there's anything you need please let me know."

Sage considered Hank and Alex for a moment before nodding, "Thank you. We will."

Hank nodded again, and started walking down the hall toward Alex. Alex frowned at Hank, but turned and headed down the stairs to the ground floor. Hank followed. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I...didn't really mean to be," Alex said.

"I thought we agreed we didn't lie to each other?" Hank asked and pressed on before Alex could react. "It just seems dissentious that we agreed to try and not fight so much and then you promptly started ignoring me."

Alex tensed visibly at Hank's first question, but turned it into a pivot to face Hank, "Well, hell, it's sure one way to keep us from fighting."

"No it's not, not in any way that matters."

"When we're around each other we fight. We always fight," Alex ran his hands through his hair. "And I don't know how not to."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because you're _afraid_?"

"You are not one to talk about fear," Alex snapped.

"Well I've never said I'm not afraid," Hank said. "But you _act_ like you aren't. Until someone actually pays attention."

"Well, fuck, Hank. Yes I'm scared. I don't do....I don't know how to do friends. And I don't know how not to be the most abrasive person in a room. I just don't."

"Usually you get better at something with practice!"

"Yeah, well how do you practice _this_?" Alex snapped.

"Presumably by not avoiding someone!"

"We're shit at this," Alex said, getting into Hank's space. "We end up yelling whenever we interact, doesn't matter if we mean to or not!"

"You mean like we are right now?" Hank yelled back just because he could and he felt frustrated.

"Yes, like we are right _fucking_ now!"

"Maybe you could have grown up and not been avoiding me!"

"Well excuse me for wanting to put off our next fight for a while."

"We don't have to fight!"

"And we're supposed to not _how_? I say something, you get mad or you say something and I get mad," Alex said.

"Then what are some topics that would make neither of us mad?" Hank asked.

"I don't know," Alex said. "Because we haven't found it yet."

"Well if you would damn well try instead of running and hiding—"

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me about hiding when we're in the mansion and you're wearing _that_ ," Alex snapped, gesturing toward Hank's wrist.

"I had to open the door!"

"And now you're not only not opening the door you're a full floor away from the people who are _apparently staying here_."

"Should I turn it off? Would that make you feel better?" Hank yelled.

"For Christ's sake!" Alex shouted, "That isn't what I said but you shouldn't have to _hide_ in our _home_."

"I don't have to do a damned thing! is it really so beyond the pale for you to understand that maybe I want to hide?"

"I don't get why," Alex said, lowering his voice abruptly.

Hank stared at him. "Jesus you say that like having someone walk around with claws and piles of blue fur is _attractive_. Who would want to look like this? Knowing that they did it to themselves and will never be normal?"

"I would," Alex said. His eyes widened and he backed up a solid step as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Would what?" Hank asked, freezing.

Alex could feel his heart rate increasing and his breathing accelerating, "I..." He shifted back again before forcing himself to stand still, "I'd want to."

"Have copious amounts of fur and be blue?" Hank asked.

"No, no, not," Alex's hands trembled slightly and he knew that if this went much longer he'd need to get out of the building. "Not that. Hank, you're, you're gorgeous. Can't you see that?"

Hank stared at him before slamming him back into the nearest wall by his shoulders. "Don't lie to me," he snarled, the image inducer not capable of covering the growl his voice had turned into.

"Let go," Alex's voice was strangled as he could sense his powers coiling in response to his fear. "Hank, let me go. I'm not lying to you."

"You said we weren't going to lie to each other," Hank said, too distracted to let him go.

"Hank," Alex's voice was increasing in intensity, "I swear to you I am not lying. But please, you've got to let me go."

Hank was staring at him, eyes wide before dropping down too obviously to Alex's mouth where he lingered for too long. Abruptly, he seemed to realize what Alex was saying and jerked back.

Alex clenched his hands tightly and tried to calm himself, feeling his power still trying to get loose. He met Hank's eyes for a long moment before turning and bolting for the bunker.

"Shit," Hank told the empty hallway. He stood there for a long moment before turning and marching back up the stairs, knocking on Sage's door.

Sage opened the door, blinking at him, "Yes?"

"I have not been entirely honest with you," Hank said. "We asked of your powers but did not offer our own. But more than that I am currently wearing an image inducer which hides my own appearance." 

Hearing Hank's voice, Bishop rose from where he had been sitting and talking to Sage to appear over her shoulder. Sage glanced back at Bishop before looking back to Hank, "I thought I detected markers for visible mutation, but I wasn't sure. Thank you for telling us."

Hank frowned. "Ah. I wasn't always like this though. I made it worse in an attempt to hide my mutation."

"Still, thank you," Sage said. "It's good to hear the honest explanation."

"What do you look like then?" Bishop asked and with a sigh Hank turned the image inducer off, rolling his shoulders. 

"I've been told I should not have to hide in my own home," Hank muttered, not looking at either of them.

Sage rocked back on her heels, considering the change in his size as well as his general appearance, "Whoever told you that was right. You're broader than your illusion suggests."

"Much," Hank agreed. "I am... supposed to be working on that."

"If you ever want help with that," Sage said, leaving the offer open-ended.

"No," Hank said promptly and then, "But thank you."

Sage nodded, "You're welcome."

Hank nodded, stiffly turning and walking downstairs.

Sage closed the door, turning to look up at Bishop, "This is rather a lot to take in today."

Bishop sat down in one of the chairs, putting his head in his hands. "Yes," he said, "It is."

Sage took the other chair, crossing her legs and leaning back, "Not what I expected."

"Imagine how much worse it is when you've heard stories of Xavier and Magneto your whole life," Bishop muttered. "What did you expect?"

"I'm not sure, but an immediate fight with a telepath wasn't at the top of my list," Sage said.

"I'm not sure which of you started that one," Bishop admitted.

"Probably me," Sage said after thinking about it for a moment. "He just...he _cannot_ continue like that if he actually means for this to be a safe place."

Bishop sighed. "This isn't a safe space," he said. "Not yet. It's... supposed to be." He frowned. "They all seem so young."

"You would have heard about them after they had made an impact," Sage said, looking around the room. "I'm not sure they'd even make much of a ripple yet. Though Lehnsherr seems well on his way there."

"He's the one who you mentioned, right?" Bishop asked. "Who your organization has been trying to track?"

"We think it's most likely him. The CIA weren't.... exactly forthcoming about what they knew but they never are."

"Would they know much about him?" Bishop asked.

"Based on what we know, which admittedly isn't much, Lehnsherr and Xavier met because of the CIA's pursuit of Shaw. They would probably have the most information of any of our agencies at this time," Sage said, nodding slightly. "They're not letting anyone near the agent who was closest to that job either."

Bishop nodded. "I don't quite have the grasp on law enforcement in this century yet. Who was Shaw?"

"Shaw was a bastard manipulator and highly powerful mutant who took people who had no other choice and used them as pawns," Sage said before pausing. "On a more objective level, he was a rich megalomaniacal business man that the CIA suspected of having ties to the communists. My agency thought it was more complicated than that. We were right, based on the evidence that's happened since then. We're not entirely sure what his interest in the nuclear arms race was, but he certainly had one. You saw what little information we have on the Cuba Incident."

"When everyone realized mutants were real," Bishop said. "And active." He shook his head. "I wonder if any of them realized what that realization would actually mean."

Sage shook her head, "I don't think they do yet."

"Nor will they for many years," Bishop said.

"This is either going to go very well or extremely badly," Sage said after a moment's consideration.

Bishop stared at her for a long moment. "Badly," he said. "It's going to go badly."

x-x-x-x

Alex sat on the floor of his room with his back leaning against his bedframe, his eyes closed as he listened to a record playing on the turntable he'd found second-hand. His hands were shaking slightly from the how much energy he had spent in the bunker before he had felt safe coming back into the mansion. He still couldn't figure out what the hell he had been thinking telling Hank what he actually thought of him. His damn mouth and its inability to shut off sometimes.

Of course that was nothing on the fact that he still hadn't owned up to lying to Hank on Christmas. The reason he'd done it was no longer a secret, but damn it was probably no better an idea to admit that. He swore, knocking his head back against the mattress on his bed. At just about that moment a knock came on his door.

Alex startled, hauling himself to his feet and opening the door part way, "Yeah? Hank?"

"A few, perhaps minor, points," Hank said, the image inducer still off. "Firstly, I don't believe you."

"I'm not lying," Alex protested almost automatically even as he looked Hank over in confusion.

"But if it is true," Hank ploughed on. "Doesn't that just mean we have more reason to try and be civil to each other?"

Alex blinked at him, leaning against the doorframe, "Yeah, I guess so."

"And I told Bishop and Sage," Hank added.

"You..." Alex gaped at him, "You actually did?"

"Maybe you could sound less surprised," Hank said.

Alex just raised his eyebrows at that, "Seriously?"

About to protest again Hank just sighed. "They're strangers," he said. "I'm not sure it's occurred to you I'm more likely to be met with a lynch mob than a welcoming committee looking like this."

"Why do you think I'm surprised?" Alex asked.

Hank looked away. "But it's what you prefer."

"When you're home sure. You shouldn't have to hide. I get why you do have to, but you _really_ shouldn't have to in a place that's supposed to be safe for you," Alex said.

"Right now no place is safe for us," Hank said, shaking his head slightly.

"Then what is this, Hank? Right here, where we're standing?"

"A dream that hasn't been realized yet," Hank said and turned to go.

Alex reached out and caught Hank by the arm, "I don't understand you."

"I'm not that complicated," Hank said, turning.

"No, you are. But right now I mean the fact that on the one hand you get after me for being hard on Warren for showing off his flight and on the other you insist this isn't a safe place for us. You can't have it both ways, Hank," Alex said, his voice steady.

"And we still asked Warren to hide when strangers come," Hank said. "He's used to hiding his wings and he can do it well." Hank sighed.

"You're still not hearing me. If we are in a place and there isn't anyone here we need to hide from at the time, why should you? Of course there are times where hiding needs to happen, but..." Alex trailed off and shook his head, finally realizing he hadn't actually withdrawn his hand and doing that abruptly.

"Because Warren is proud of his wings," Hank said. "I'm _not_. Maybe I'm not hiding from other people but myself."

Alex frowned slightly, "That's not something that can last. You know that, right?"

"Or maybe next time I'll find the right cure," Hank snapped.

Alex paled, "You're....you're still testing those?"

Hank froze, simply staring at him.

"Hank," Alex's voice was faint, "please answer me."

"Not actively," Hank said. "I... if I could ever be, I would have to be sure."

Something seemed to relax in Alex's shoulders at that answer, "Just, damn it be careful."

"Nothing will probably come of it," Hank said, his eyes sliding away. "And there's so much else to do."

"Promise me you'll tell me before you decide to test anything like that again?" Alex asked.

Hank stared at him. "No," he said finally. "But I will tell someone."

Alex paused at that and then nodded, "Okay."

"I should," Hank started and gave up, just watching Alex.

Alex spared a brief glance into his room as the record came to an end before looking back to Hank, "Yeah. I, yeah."

Hank's eyes flickered past Alex's shoulder and just gave up, turning to walk away again.

"You want to come in?" Alex asked before he got more than a couple of steps.

"What?" Hank turned around.

"I said do you want to come in? I'm not doing anything, just listening to music and resting. I think I burned out my powers for a few hours at least," Alex said.

Hank looked at him warily before remembering what he had opened the conversation with. "Sure," he said finally. "But I don't have very good taste in music."

"I'm not in a position to judge that," Alex said, stepping back into his room.

"You might be surprised," Hank said, following him.

The walls of Alex's room were covered with an assortment of pictures, posters he'd found without much rhyme or reason as to what was on them; his primary concern was that they cover blank wall space.

Hank looked around before focusing back on Alex. "Do you, well, have a lot of records?"

"Not really. I mean, it's a little harder for me to justify them," Alex said, setting the turntable to start playing the side of the record currently on the player.

"Though Charles managed to get me a couple for Christmas that I don't know how he got and am a little skittish about how he knew I'd like."

"He doesn't have a lot of boundaries," Hank said, watching Alex.

Alex nodded, "Yeah, I've noticed." He pushed out the desk chair for Hank, settling himself on the floor. Hank settled quietly, still considering Alex warily.

"Okay, this is awkward," Alex said after a minute.

"Yes," Hank agreed with a faint laugh.

Alex offered him a crooked grin, "But hey it's a start?"

"We aren't fighting," Hank said softly.

"We aren't fighting," Alex agreed.

"So it's progress, of a sort?" Hank offered. "Awkward progress."

"Hey, it's something. We haven't been talking, but we are in each other's space. So yeah," Alex tipped his head back against the desk.

"I do however feel like you're still managing to assault my ears," Hank said.

"You don't like the music?" Alex asked, "What would you rather?"

"I don't know really," Hank admitted. "Not this?"

Alex shifted until he could reach the small pile of records he had and handed them to Hank, "Anything in there appeal?"

Hank started flipping through them, stopping at one. "West Side Story?"

Alex shifted like he was going to snatch that one back but stayed where he was, curling in on himself slightly, "Yeah, what of it?"

"It's just not like the others," Hank said.

"I like it," Alex said. "I'd heard it before I went to prison. Still like it now."

Hank silently held it out to him.

Alex hesitated before getting to his feet and stopping the current record, replacing it with West Side Story, "Heard they made a movie of it in '61." He sat back down, leaning against the desk as the Prologue started.

"Have you seen it yet?" Hank asked, looking up at him from where he was still seated on the desk chair. "I mean, obviously not. Do you want to?"

"Yeah, if they ever show it anywhere again," Alex said with a shrug.

"Maybe it will," Hank said. "Or come up on television. Have you... ever seen the play?"

Alex snorted, "My foster family had the record, but no never saw the play."

"You know," Hank said slowly. "We live pretty close to New York now."

"It's not running, not at any of the theater's I've checked," Alex said, ducking his head and a slight flush tingeing the back of his neck.

Hank blinked and since Alex wasn't looking right at him, he smiled. "You have been checking."

"Yeah. Kind of sad going to see something alone, but if it was there," Alex said, curling in on himself a bit further.

"Then don't go by yourself," Hank said.

Alex glanced at him, "I think Sean might laugh me out of the room, and I'd rather not go with Charles."

"Well," Hank paused. "I'd need an aisle seat and so would Warren potentially."

Alex hesitated at that, "You'd go with me?"

"I've never had the chance to go to Broadway before," Hank shrugged like it didn't matter. "I'd have to fix the inducer of course."

"Something to look forward to then," Alex said, grinning up at him.

Hank stared at him, having almost lost himself in musing about the inducer. "If," he had to clear his throat and ducked his head. "If there are any plays that catch your attention."

"I'll keep you posted," Alex promised.

"Right," Hank said. "I should, I should go work," he decided because he was staring too obviously at Alex's smile.

Alex ducked his head at that and then nodded, "Yeah. I've got some stuff I should probably do too. Thanks for sitting around for a while, Hank."

"See?" Hank offered tentatively. "We can do it."

Alex laughed, looking up again, "Yeah, yeah we can."

"Which is also my cue to leave before we ruin the moment," Hank said with a wry smile.

"Yeah probably." Alex said, his gaze flickering to Hank's smile and then back to his eyes. "I'll catch you later."

"Right," Hank said, pushing himself to his feet and not daring to actually look at Alex's room. "Good night, Alex."

"Night, Hank," Alex said, watching him leave and resisting the urge to call him back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we get to intro two characters we really do love: Sage and Bishop. Comics characters through and through (well until they underutilized Bishop in DoFP but we don't talk about that). We'll be seeing more of them as things progress we're sure. Thank you for reading!


	7. A Nice Distinction To Make

Erik paused when he found most of his compatriots seated around the kitchen table. "Is there a problem I am not aware of?"

Raven pushed a single sealed letter from the mail Riptide had just returned with across the table toward Erik, "We're waiting for you to deal with this."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, picking up the letter and considering it skeptically. 

"You haven't written him back have you?" Emma asked, casually leaning back.

"This is the sixth letter since he started sending them. In late November. February just started," Angel said, leaning an elbow on the table.

"He's persistent," Emma remarked.

"Very," Erik said shortly, still frowning at the letter when he turned and started to walk away.

"You're writing him back, right?" Raven asked.

"No," Erik said, distracted.

Raven paused at that, "You have actually _met_ him right? Interacted with him? I didn't miss that? He's not going to stop until you tell him to."

"Would he stop if I told him to?" Erik asked, finally looking up at her.

She considered that seriously for a long moment and then shrugged, "Probably. He's fairly good about stopping when someone indicates he isn't wanted."

"That's not the impression I got from him," Emma drawled.

"Yeah, but he also doesn't give much of a damn about you," Raven said, glancing at Emma. "You were a means to an end."

"Excuse me?" Emma asked.

"Okay, not the best way I could have phrased that," Raven said. "Charles chooses what limits he responds to based on how much the person giving them matters to him. At least that's how he used to do it."

"Bullshit," Emma said, after having considered it seriously for a few seconds.

Raven blinked once, staring at Emma and echoing her unintentionally, "Excuse me?"

"You like to think he respects limits," Emma said. "You like to think he respected your limits all the time you lived with him. But that's bullshit. He has none of his own and so he cannot respect others’ because they don't make sense to him. Charles Xavier smiles and promises and lies in the same breath."

Raven's eyes narrowed, "You sure you're not biased?"

"You sure you aren't?" Angel cut in.

"Darling, I've been in his head, can you say the same thing?" Emma asked.

Raven pushed away from the table and walked out without another word.

"Oh, sorry," Emma called after her. "They say the truth hurts, right?"

Angel looked at the door Raven had left through and then at Emma, "You really do wield truth like a stiletto don't you?"

Emma shrugged. "It's better than lying to yourself or others," she said and looked up to realize Erik was staring at her. "Yes, dear?" she asked, tossing her hair back over her shoulders as she met his eyes.

"Nothing," he said after a beat, turning away before turning back. "When were you in Charles' head?"

"In Russia," she said and he blinked. "And later. He's very good at telepathic communication, isn't he? He just doesn't realize what that does with fellow telepaths."

"He doesn't seem like he's very familiar with powers like his," Angel said after a moment. "Or at least with how to deal with them in other people."

"Because he thought he was special," Emma said. "Poor delusioned thing." Erik was still staring at her. "What?" she asked again. "Are you insulted on his behalf too?"

"No," Erik said. 

"But you still don't like to hear it," she said, daring him to disagree.

"No, I do not like to hear it," he agreed and left the room.

"You're enjoying yourself a bit, aren't you?" Angel said, watching Emma with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Perhaps a little," Emma said, tracing her fingers along the edge of the table. "Raven apparently is not."

"It's hard having illusions shattered," Angel said.

"I suppose so," Emma said as if it had never happened to her.

x-x-x-x

Warren was sitting on the stair railing, looking down where through the open door to the kitchen the sounds of Alex and Hank bickering could be heard. He was fiddling with the camera in his hands, when Sean walked over.

"They still at it?" Sean asked, leaning against the railing next to Warren.

"Alex called Hank a furball or blue or something," Warren shrugged. "I think they started arguing over grocery shopping."

Sean buried his head in his hands, letting out a slightly hysterical giggle at that, "Man I hope he wasn't stupid enough to call him furball. And _grocery shopping_? They are hopeless."

"Yeah," Warren said. "I think I got a good picture though."

"You got a good picture. While they were fighting?" Sean glanced at him, "When you get that developed I want to see that bit of magic."

"Of them fighting, more like," Warren said, turning the camera around again. "Haven't had a chance to get any of it developed yet."

"Hank might be interested in a new project if you wanted a darkroom," Sean said after a moment.

"You think so?" Warren asked, perking up slightly.

"It's worth asking at least."

"It would not, however, be worth asking Alex," Warren decided. "For anything, really."

"I'm actually pretty sure the only one who can ask Alex for anything is Hank," Sean said.

Warren eyed him sideways. "You think so?"

Sean tipped his head to the side, listening as the argument downstairs went up a couple notches, "I don't think either of them realize it, but yeah."

"At the moment I'm not inclined to believe you either," Warren said as Bishop come out of his room behind them, pausing when he heard the sounds of fighting.

Sean grimaced, "Yeah that's fine, no one really is. I'm saving up my 'I told you so's for the future."

"Have a lot of those saved, do you?" Bishop asked.

Sean startled, turning to look at Bishop, "Yeah, it's a collection right now."

Hank stormed out of the kitchen, pausing when he saw everyone at the top of the stairs. "Don't you all have something to be doing?" he asked.

Sean shook his head, "Not really, no?"

Hank scowled up at them. "Hey," Warren asked. "Do you think you could maybe make a darkroom?"

"What?" Hank asked, surprised.

Sean bit his lip to hide a grin at that, "You need to work on timing, Warren."

"I didn't want to forget," Warren shrugged.

"Okay, fair," Sean said, looking down at Hank. "So what do you think? Darkroom?"

"I'd have to research it," Hank said after a beat. "I've never built one before. But I built a plane so I figure it can't be that much harder."

"You built a plane?" Warren and Bishop asked in about the same moment.

Sean blinked, having forgotten that was common knowledge, "Oh that's right, you weren't—yeah plane's an understatement. He built a stealth jet."

"Why have I not seen that we have a stealth jet?"

"Because it was built with CIA resources and currently in pieces on a Cuban beach," Hank said.

"Yeah, that," Sean nodded.

"But you could build another one?" Bishop asked. 

"Charles has the money but not the contacts," Hank said after he thought about it. "In time, yes."

Sean eyed Bishop at that question, "Because every school has one of those."

Bishop frowned at him. "By all indications you aren't only a school. And mutants must be protected."

"Stealth jets." Sean shook his head, "Yeah, okay."

"Wouldn't you want that just because it's cool?" Warren asked and Hank winced. 

Bishop ignored Warren to remain focused on Sean. "Do you disapprove of such measures?"

Sean turned away from him to look at Hank, "Is this a school or a fortress?"

Hank shifted, obviously unhappy with that attention being turned to him. "Um—"

"Can it not be both?" Bishop asked.

Sean turned again, his green eyes narrowing slightly, "What are you expecting this place to be?"

"A symbol," Bishop said. "That protects and defends mutants. We'll need all the help we can get."

"You say that with a lot of certainty," Hank mused.

Alex appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Hank as Sean spoke, "We're _students_. This place can be a symbol, fine. But Christ it's supposed to be a school and it's not even that yet."

"But if you have the ability—"

"You sound more like Erik," Hank said and that seemed to bring Bishop up short.

Alex crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing, "Even if we were going to do that. We're not prepared for that. We're teenagers, not soldiers."

"That's a nice distinction to be able to make," Bishop said and Hank ogled at him. 

"Are there those who _cannot_?" he asked. 

Bishop tensed, and his eyes roved around for a second as if looking for attack before focusing back on Hank. "There may be a time when your enemies—our enemies—aren't going to make that distinction either."

"Are you playing devil's advocate or do you honestly think this should be more than a school?" Hank asked.

"It should be a school," Bishop said after he considered it. "But one that teaches defense too."

"That's different than stealth jets," Alex said, his voice steady but something dark in his expression.

Hank tensed, his eyes flickering over to Alex before he obviously turned his attention back to Bishop.

"Perhaps being able to hide is just as important as fighting," Bishop said and turned and walked away, leaving the four boys in the foyer.

Alex's jaw twitched and he turned on his heel. Moments later the door toward the garage could be heard closing. Sean drew a deep breath and looked at Warren, "I'm going for a fly. You want to come?"

"Sure," Warren said, jumping off the stair railing and floating down. 

Hank was frowning at where Bishop had disappeared to, before turning his frown toward where Alex had gone.

"Don't fight with Alex again," Warren said on his way past.

Sean followed Warren down the stairs, glancing at Hank, "But it might be worth talking." With that he slipped out the front door, grabbing his glider from where he kept it folded by the door.

"What's there to talk about?" Hank asked the empty foyer.

x-x-x-x

Erik walked into the main room, Azazel draped over Riptide who said nothing one way or the other about it. "Emma," he said and she looked up from where she was reading a liberal magazine. "Are you going to town?"

"You know there are other people who live here right, and can also run your errands?"

Angel glanced up, her gaze darting between the two of them before she looked back down at the dark lacquer she'd found for her nails, "I can run into town, for that matter."

"I have nothing against going in to town," Emma said. "But I resent being considered your lackey."

"And yet you are the one most often who wishes to go into town," Erik said mildly.

Angel glanced between them, capping her nail polish and setting it aside.

"What are we going in to town for today anyway?" Emma asked. Erik handed her the letter to Charles and for a long moment Emma stared at it mutely.

Angel blinked once, "You're finally writing him back?"

"It seems he is not likely to stop," Erik said. 

"And you want to, don't lie," Emma said. 

Erik shifted, looking at the others around them before focusing back on her. "I may," he agreed. 

Considering him again, Emma shrugged before focusing on Angel. "Want to go shopping?"

Angel nodded, "I still need a pair of boots."

Erik had turned but that brought him up short. "What?" he asked as Emma rose, slipping the letter into an inner pocket of her white jacket. 

"You disapprove of boots?"

"I disapprove of frivolous spending," Erik said. "We may have acquired Shaw's fortune but it will run out."

"Eventually," Emma agreed. "But you're missing an important point too."

"And what is that?" Erik asked. 

"We're the forerunners of a revolution of sorts, are we not?" Emma asked and Riptide had silently been watching her the whole exchange.

"Yes," Erik agreed.

"Then we should look good while doing that," Angel said simply, curling her wings back into her tattoos and pulling on the leather coat she had draped over the back of her chair. "It's about presentation."

"We do not need to present to—" Erik started.

"Yes, we do," Emma said. "And it is also ironic considering how decent your tastes are when left to yourself."

Erik blinked at her. 

"Well, if you don't count that helmet monstrosity," she amended.

"The whole costume," Angel said. "He's fine with neutrals and street clothes though."

"Decently so," Emma said. "Certainly it's better than whatever that outfit is."

"Excuse you?" Erik asked.

"We're supposed to lead a revolution, that means we have to convince people to throw in with us," Emma said. "That outfit is never going to achieve that."

"Who says I want anyone to throw in with us?" Erik asked, folding his arms over his chest. 

"Because I'm not talking about humans," Emma said. "I'm talking about other mutants who might be on the fence."

"If they're on the fence—" Erik started.

"We still want them," Emma snapped.

"If they're on the fence it means they're still deciding," Angel said. "We can't afford not to want them." She gestured around the room, "We're what six people?"

"And you, illustrious leader, must be the most impressive of us all," Emma drawled, Riptide ducking his head. 

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

Angel's lips twitched slightly, "Well, you're the face of the revolution." She paused, "Apparently the revolution wears magenta."

Emma and Erik both turned to her before Emma suddenly burst out laughing. Angel blinked at Emma, not having heard her actually laugh before. Her expression split into a grin and she ducked her head slightly.

"The revolution," Erik said after he got over his surprise. "Can wear whatever it wants."

"Certainly, dear," Emma said, smoothing her face out. "We'll pick you up something nice while we're out too."

"On that note, we ready to go?" Angel asked, looking to Emma.

"In another moment," Emma said.

Angel's eyebrows rose, but she nodded, "Alright. Whenever you're set."

Emma nodded, giving Erik another look before strolling out of the room on the search for Raven. She found her reading in one of the smaller rooms in the club. Raven looked up, closing the magazine, "Yeah?"

"Want to go shopping?" Emma asked, leaning against the door frame.

Raven blinked at her for a long moment, "Really?"

"Angel wants new boots and I feel a need myself," Emma said, casually as if it wasn't important.

"Yeah, I mean, yes I would," Raven got to her feet, still sounding surprised Emma had asked, pausing before shifting her form to the one she had worn for years as Charles' sister.

"It is a neat trick you have there," Emma said. "Say, do you shift most of your clothing or do you actually wear it most days?"

Raven's lips twitched up at that, "Depends on the day and how I'm feeling."

"Makes shopping almost superfluous," Emma said. "If only your imagination is a boundary."

"You'd think that, but shopping, even if I'm not buying anything helps me figure out what's more likely to be on the street. Makes blending in easier,"

Raven said. "Also, it's still about a fifty-fifty split for me wearing clothes or not."

"Maybe with practice you'll need even less," Emma said. "Though quality might be hard to replicate. In any case, we're leaving if you're coming."

"With practice I might be able to replicate it," she said, following Emma out of the room.

"Then you should work on it," Emma said.

Angel was waiting for them by the front door and she paused, looking Raven over, "You going to be warm enough?"

Raven grabbed a long coat from where it was hung near the door, pulling it on, "Yeah."

"Will you be warm enough?" Emma asked, leading the way out of the door.

Angel shrugged, "Yeah." Raven looked over Angel's outfit, earning her a frown, "Don't even."

"You do still dress like a hooker," Emma said. "A classy hooker, mind."

Angel shifted her shoulders slightly at that before offering Emma a smile, "Time for a change then. Teach me your ways oh great one."

Emma startled before staring at Angel before slowly smiling. "At last, someone asks."

Angel held up one finger, pointing at Emma, "Just not white. You've got a corner on that."

"Oh no," Emma agreed. "That's mine."

"Good," Angel grinned.

"So what brought on the shopping trip?" Raven asked.

"Erik had an errand and we're using it as an excuse," Emma said.

"What errand?"

"He's writing back to Charles," Angel said. "See what you miss when you don't hang out with the rest of us?"

Emma shook her head slightly. "I almost want to read the damn letter."

"Steam the adhesive and then reseal it," Raven said without missing a beat.

Emma snorted. "Yes, I know," she said. "But I'm not sure I want to hear whatever inane things they have to write to each other. I equally do not want to know if Erik is writing a treatise on revolution."

Raven smirked slightly at that, "Okay that's a very good point."

Emma stopped in front of the car and paused. "Ah," she said as if realizing something before shaking her head.

Angel looked over at her, "Hm?"

"I just realized Valentine's Day is soon," Emma said. "The first in over five years without Sebastian."

Angel paused at that, "Oh."

Emma tossed her hair over her shoulder, grinning broadly. "What a nice feeling."

Raven grinned, opening the back door of the car and sliding in, "Any plans to celebrate that?"

"Buy myself something classy this year," Emma said, folding herself into the driver's seat.

Angel got into the passenger side, "Sounds like the best way."

"I mean, it's difficult, as I'm already made of diamonds," Emma said and her face darkened a second before she breezed on. "But I'm sure I'll be able to think of something else."

"Somehow this isn't the reaction I quite thought you'd have," Raven said after a moment, earning a glance from Angel.

"It was better to play along with dear Sebastian," Emma said. "And be doting and adoring and everything he wanted you to be. Let him shower you in silver lingerie and diamonds and say you two were going to be the best and rule the world. I mean, rather than kicking or screaming or trying to run the hell away."

Raven leaned forward so she could rest her arms against Angel's seat and look at Emma for a moment, assessing, "You really hated him?"

"He was a very hard man to have _any_ affection for," Emma said after a beat. "Yes, I really hated him."

Raven nodded, sitting back again, "Huh."

"Having to rethink assumptions again, Raven?" Angel glanced over her shoulder.

"Doing a lot of that lately."

"I know it's hard," Emma said. "Try not to let the strain overload you."

Raven snorted, "Yeah, thanks for the concern."

"Any time, darling," Emma said.

x-x-x-x

Hank found Sean and Warren already in the dining room. "Have you seen Alex yet?"

Sean shook his head, "Not yet. But you called so—"

"I'm right here, don't worry," Alex said, coming in through the other door. He pulled a chair out from the table, turning it around to sit backward on it, and crossed his arms on the backrest.

Hank blinked, almost asking Sean what he meant before shrugging. "So, I was doing some research," he said, floundering.

"You usually are," Alex said. "What about that you called us for?"

"Well, it was about Bishop," Hank said. "He acts so... odd. I wanted to see if there was anything—I mean, I don't have a degree in this. I probably shouldn't have. I just wanted to see if there was anything that might explain his behavior."

"You found something?" Sean asked.

Alex looked at Sean, "Of course he found something."

"Well, his behavior is rather a lot like traumatic war neurosis," Hank said. "I have some... well I made a few note cards."

Alex blinked at him, "Okay, for one, you made notecards? For two, what?"

"It's like—have you ever studied the First World War?"

"A bit, yeah," Alex said, shrugging. "Not a lot."

"Well," Hank said. "I mean, it was noticed a lot in the Great War but a lot of soldiers suffered under the war conditions. It was called shell shock then. During the next war, a few more terms came up, like traumatic war neurosis or gross stress reaction. That's currently what it's under in the manual of, um, disorders."

"So you're saying he's a soldier?" Alex asked, frowning slightly, "He doesn't look old enough to have served in the last war."

"Other countries have wars too," Sean pointed out.

"It seems like he was in some high stress situation," Hank said. "I mean, the diagnosis is focused on soldiers. But it's possible—he displays so many of the symptoms. So, incidentally, does Erik."

"What sort of symptoms are we talking about, here?" Alex asked.

"Well, their twitchiness for one," Hank said. "They both—react very strongly. Bishop looks like he expects attack to come over his shoulder at any point. There's also the fact the M on his face looks like a brand."

Sean considered that and then nodded slightly, "Would make some sense."

"Should we be talking about this?" Alex asked, glancing at the others. "I mean, about them, him, Bishop."

"Only because of the conversation the other day," Hank said. "I think—I think we have to understand, even if we don't agree or like it, that Bishop probably comes from a very different place than us."

Alex finally nodded, "Makes sense."

"He does seem rather angry," Warren said, looking at the card, flipping it over to the back to read that too.

Alex considered the neatly written card, setting it down and looking to Hank, "What can we do to help? Anything stand out in your research there?"

Hank sighed. "I—not enough. The most suggestions were to not remind them too much of their trauma but—"

"That's not going to be something we know if we're doing or not until it happens," Sean said.

"I'll see what more I can find," Hank said.

"If you want help with that research, I'm up for it," Sean said.

Hank blinked, a little taken aback. "Thank you," he said.

Sean nodded slightly, "It sounds like something really important to know about."

Hank nodded. "Probably," he agreed. "It... it could be quite useful."

Alex got to his feet, sliding the card into his pocket, "Yeah, sounds like."

Eyes flickering over to him, Hank's fur went up slightly, fluffing around his shoulders and neck. "Is something the matter?"

"No. I mean it," Alex said, hand resting on the back of the chair he had just turned back around. "This is supposed to become a safe place for us, right? Well there's going to be other people with this, this gross stress reaction likely. It's a good thing to know about."

Hank hesitated before he nodded. "Yes, it's likely."

"Something else, Hank?" Alex asked, noticing the hesitation.

"No," Hank said, looking away.

Alex paused at the avoidance, tensing very slightly. He saw Sean shaking his head out of the corner of his eye and drew a deep breath, "Alright. If you need me for anything I'll be in the garage."

"Alright," Hank said, opened his mouth again and then closed it.

Alex caught another headshake from Sean, but ignored it this time, "No, you've got something else to say."

"No," Hank said and offered him a faint smile. "It can wait."

Pausing for a moment, Alex finally nodded, "Okay."

x-x-x-x

Emma slid the letter into the mail box, reaching out for Charles' mind and finding him after a few moments of searching. It helped that he was in the same place he had been when he sought her out. _I cannot tell whether to congratulate you or send my condolences._

Charles' attention immediately diverted to the mental conversation from the papers he was going over, _What's happened?_

 _One Erik Lehnsherr just wrote you a tragic love letter disguised as a revolutionary pamphlet_ she sent back.

There was a flash of anger that was nearly buried in relief as he replied, _I thought someone had died. I'm certain you'll look lovely with short hair._

 _My dignity has just died_ , she said. _That is a tragedy._

_Somehow I think that your dignity will find a way to survive._

_Eventually_ she agreed. _I'm curious what you plan on doing about Erik._

_What do you mean?_

_Charles_ she said. _Don't play coy. He's writing you back which I assume is what you wanted, though I'm not sure you'll want it when you see it._

 _Then I suppose I shall make my decision when I see it, shan't I?_ Charles asked.

 _Alright. You will want to brace yourself first_ , Emma said. _He was very mad about the Hanukkah card._

_Hm, yes I probably should have thought that one through a bit more._

_Did you honestly tell him that the people shooting bombs at you were just following orders?_ she asked, considering the hair salon in front of her before discarding it for another one.

Charles actually winced at that, _I have little doubt you know the truth of that question._

 _He dreams about it,_ Emma said. _Usually overlaid with dreams about reading about the Trials in the newspaper overlaid with the camp._

_You've been walking in his dreams?_

_He screams his dreams,_ Emma said. _There's a difference._

There was a long pause on Charles' end before he replied, _Yes, yes there rather is. He paused again, How is Raven?_

 _Angry,_ Emma said. _Calming down._

 _She always has been adaptable,_ Charles said, his mental voice drifting like he wasn't sure he wanted to be on the topic he himself had chosen.

 _Yes,_ Emma agreed and there was something almost like a smirk. _And she is finally adapting well. This life suits her better, than being stifled and forgotten and trailing after someone else._

 _How dare you?_ Charles' anger blazed bright in an instant. _I did the best I knew how. And I never damn well forgot her._

 _Sure you didn't,_ Emma said. _Drinking and sleeping your way through college. Forgetting is loosely defined here of course. Prioritizing maybe?_

 _I think we're done here,_ Charles said, tone chilly and starting to turn away from the conversation.

 _How's your school doing?_ Emma asked. _Figured out what you're actually doing yet?_

Charles slammed mental walls down over any thoughts outside of the conversation with Emma, having abruptly come to the realization of what it meant to talk to another telepath in this way, _Actually yes. Teachers and all._

 _Good,_ Emma said and there was something wistful in her thoughts, faint and gone before it could be examined. _Because mutants need a safe haven. I'm still not sure you're the right person to be building one, but we need one._

 _Well, I'm afraid I'm all we've got right now,_ Charles said. _So I'll have to do._

 _Yes, you will,_ she said. _Don't fuck it up, Xavier._

_I've no intention of doing so. You're right that we need a safe haven. And I intend to build one._

_Don't let Erik ruin it either,_ Emma said.

Charles paused for a long moment, his tone when he finally responded resolute, _I certainly have no intention of that. And I will do everything I can to keep that true._

 _Good,_ she said. _At least you sound like you believe yourself._

_I would hope so, considering how much depends on this._

_Just because something depends on someone doesn't mean they're up to the task,_ Emma said.

_No, but sometimes if the thing is big enough, important enough, they haven't much choice._

_Ah, it's like you have the platitude for every occasion_ Emma said.

_Charming. If you'll excuse me I have a student I'm due to be meeting with._

Emma happily cut the connection. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of your authors going to see X-Men: Apocalypse we present a new chapter to you. Hope you enjoy!


	8. I Never Said I Disagreed

A short while after her conversation with Charles, Emma strolled into the store where she'd found Raven and Angel's mental signatures. "Did you make any proper discoveries while I was gone?" she asked and then frowned at the clothing around her.

Angel shook her head, "No."

Raven shrugged, picking up a short dress in the same shade of blue as her natural form and tipped her head to one side, "Maybe."

Emma flicked a price tag and scowled at it.

Angel finally turned to look at her and stopped dead, "You cut your hair."

Raven looked up and blinked, "Wow, that's....quite a change."

Emma shrugged as if it didn't matter. "This is way too cheap," she told Raven instead.

"You cut your _hair_ ," Angel said again, sounding scandalized.

Raven sighed at the dress and hung it back up, "Suggestions for where I can find a better one, then? I like the cut and color."

"Yes I did," Emma said, not looking at Angel. "And somewhere not here. Blue is not hard to find."

"Why?" Angel asked, still staring at Emma.

"Suppose that's true," Raven said, nodding and shrugging. "The haircut's nice. Shorter than I thought you'd ever go with, but nice."

"Thank you, Raven," Emma said. "And it was time for a change. Come along, ducklings."

Angel and Raven exchanged a glance before following Emma, Raven speaking up, "So why do you think Erik finally wrote back?"

"Because your brother is pestersome and won't be dissuaded," Emma said and sighed. "And because Erik is stupidly attached."

"Pestersome," Raven echoed. "That's one way to put it for sure."

"I would like to think so considering how many times he's shown up in my head demanding to know why Erik won't talk to him," Emma muttered.

"I don't even want to know," Raven said.

"That was all I was going to say about it," Emma said and then snorted, an inelegant sound. "He's like a teenage girl."

"That might be a little bit of an exaggeration," Raven protested half-heartedly.

"Not much of one," Emma said. "He contacted me all the way from that stupid mansion to ask why his crush wouldn't write him back."

Angel snorted and Raven sighed, "Alright, you're right."

"Of course I am," Emma said.

Raven considered Emma for a long moment before speaking again, "Do you think you can teach me to block telepathy? Or at least....complicate it?"

Emma blinked wildly. "Excuse me?"

Raven looked at her, shrugging, "If you don't think you can I might be able to figure it out but I'm fairly sure I can't."

"It's possible. To complicate it. Azazel for instance can do it automatically."

"Could you help me figure out how?" Raven asked again. "I know it won't be perfect, but better that than nothing."

"You don't want brother dearest in your head anymore?"

"I never wanted him in my head," Raven said, her eyes narrowing.

Emma considered her. "And you don't trust him not to stay out anymore?"

Raven paused before she shrugged, "I'm not sure. I just, would rather make it more difficult if he does actually try."

"I will never understand you and your brother," Emma said.

Raven snorted, "And that sounds like you never had a brother."

Emma stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

Raven nearly ran into her, "What?"

Angel looked from Emma to Raven and back and shook her head, speaking quietly, "Do you ever think before words come out of your mouth?"

"Nothing," Emma snapped, ignoring both of them as she started walking again. Emma turned back around, clearly changing her mind instantly. "You should never assume you know people. Or that your brother and you are the only sort of siblings."

Raven rocked back on her heels at that, looking Emma over once, "Okay."

Emma almost snarled at her. "Okay? Okay?"

Raven's jaw tightened, "What do you want me to say? You're right, I shouldn't assume and Charles and I are _far_ from normal siblings."

"Try not to be so violently stupid," Emma said a d turned away again.

Raven's eyes narrowed at her back, but she didn't say anything in response to that, Angel breathing a soft sigh of relief.

x-x-x-x

Hank wasn't looking for Alex, he refused to be actively looking for the other. But when he found him in the kitchen, he came to a stop and tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

Alex dried his hands off on a towel, grease staining his shirt and a streak of it across his right temple where he'd clearly run the back of his hand. He picked up a glass, filling it with water as he glanced at Hank, "Hey."

"I, uh, saw an advertisement in the newspaper," Hank said.

Alex took a long drink of water and nodded, "Yeah, they run those."

Hank pursed his mouth and looked like he wanted to turn around. "For a play. I mean. In New York."

Alex blinked at that, finally turning his full attention to Hank, "You've been, you've been looking?"

"Yes," Hank said, a little defensively.

"Sorry," Alex said, though he didn't stop staring at Hank. "I just....sorry. So you saw an ad? What's the play?"

" _A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum_ ," Hank said. "It's a musical, by the looks. But, uh, funny."

That earned a crooked grin from Alex, "Think it's something you'd like to see? Sounds like it could be interesting. Y'know, just based on the title."

"You can read up on it if you like," Hank said. "There were, um, some reviews. Which I, uh clipped out."

"Yeah, I might do that. So, we're going to see about tickets then?" Alex asked, something uncertain settling in his expression.

"If you'd like," Hank said. "I called and they have them. Except not for the fourteenth. The lady at the desk was very clear about that."

Alex blinked at that, "The fourteenth? As in February fourteenth?"

Hank shrugged. "Yes?"

"As in Valentine's Day?" Alex clarified before finishing off his water and setting the glass down.

Hank blinked and realization seemed to dawn. "Oh! That's why she brought it up."

Alex grinned and then nodded, "Yeah, probably. So, what about the next week. We could go then sometime?"

"Sure," Hank said and then the realization it was almost Valentine's Day started sinking in.

"Cool. I mean it's not like we've really got much stopping us from making our own schedules right now, but we should figure out a date." Alex poured another glass of water and then looked back at Hank, "What are you working on right now?"

"In which sort of way?" Hank asked wryly.

Alex shrugged, "Science stuff. Tinkering?"

Hank considered him a moment. "Do you actually care or are you making small talk?"

"When was the last time I made small talk?" Alex asked, taking a drink of water and picking up an apple. "You want one?"

"No," Hank said. "It's just sometimes hard to tell with you. Whether you want to understand something or just try to—"

Alex tensed, frowning, "Just try to what?"

"Deflect?" Hank said, trying the word out.

Alex blinked rapidly at him, like that was the last thing he had expected Hank to say, "Deflect. I, no this wasn't that."

"Alright," Hank said, seeming to accept that.

"So, are you?" Alex asked.

"Mostly it's just tweaking other things," Hank said. "Cerebro needs a lot of work, for one. It's still rather small but," he shrugged. "We're already finding perhaps too many."

"We're not even prepared for the ones we _have_ ," Alex pointed out.

"Yes, that is a problem," Hank said. "On the other hand..." He stopped, frowning.

"On the other hand?" Alex asked. "How far's the range now?"

"On the other hand we found you in prison. Erik was drowning apparently. How many more mutants are dying or in danger while we twiddle our thumbs hoping to be ready for them?"

Alex crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders slightly at that, "Too many, but that's not actually news."

Hank made a dissatisfied noise. "If we could even—find mutants before they manifest—"

Alex looked at Hank wide-eyed at that, "And what, if their parents are anti- mutant there's no real way to approach that, is there? I mean, sure we're a school, but....actually, actually that might work."

"It gives us a cover, and a way to get them out," Hank said. "And we might—you were in prison because of your powers manifesting, right?"

Alex turned to the sink to wash his glass, his back to Hank as he nodded once, "Yeah."

"If—if we could find others before that happens, no matter how destructive their powers—"

Alex set the glass down carefully next to the sink, resting his hands on the counter and he nodded again, "You think you could do that?"

"I," Hank considered, half turned away and he picked up a pen that had been left on the counter, starting to scribble notes on the calendar hanging nearby.

Alex turned around again after a moment, frowning as he moved over, boosting himself up on the counter so he could see around Hank's shoulder better.

"It would require recalibration," Hank said, taking the calendar down and starting to write on the next month.

"And this is going to require a new calendar," Alex snarked, but leaned closer, tipping his head to the side.

"Those aren't that hard to find," Hank muttered. "I think I have an idea."

Alex grinned, "We're going to put those steno pads in all the rooms you frequent, just so the calendars are safe. Anyhow, I'm never going to hit this level of science, what's the idea?"

Hank gave Alex a sheepish look after a moment. "Sorry. You were trying to bring up another idea."

"Nah, doesn't matter. Mostly just realizing how what you said about finding them before they manifest could be possible. A little....maybe a little questionable but possible," Alex said.

"Why questionable?" Hank said, scribbling out a few other lines.

"I can't word this in a way that doesn't sound....stupid considering where I was found," Alex said.

"You could give it a try," Hank offered, still distracted.

Alex leaned closer, still looking at the calculations on the calendar, "We don't know if their parents will react badly to them being mutants. And if Charles doesn't go out for the recruiting there's not really any way to know. And I don't know, not all homes are bad, and not everyone's anti-mutant. And just, we're a boarding school, right? Or will be?"

"Presumably," Hank said.

"How young do mutations usually manifest? I didn't get mine until I was like...fifteen or sixteen, but the way Sean talks he was younger than that, he would have to be he just turned sixteen. And Rav—well, some people have them from birth."

Hank paused, looking up. "I-I hadn't thought about that. Mine was from birth too. Charles manifested very young too."

"Okay, so figure we can't find out about mutations in small children, or fetuses—god let's hope the medical community never figures out the genetic code yeah? How young are we talking here? Twelve? _Ten_?" Alex shook his head, "And as a boarding school that would mean they leave their parents and their friends, and if they're actually in an accepting community and they have a safe power?"

"Who has a safe power?" Hank asked. "Besides, this is going to get worse."

Alex sighed, "I don't know. I just, I mean, kids, Hank."

Hank finally looked up at him. "Would you rather leave them with families who would reject them?" Hank asked. "If they had a physical mutation, do you think they would survive school? Would you rather leave them to discover their powers—violently—by accident?"

Alex shoved a hand through his hair, making a frustrated noise, "I don't _know_ what I'm saying here, Hank. I just don't know what we're supposed to _do_ either? Fuck, no we can't leave them with families that would reject them. But we can't save _everyone_."

"Of course you can't save everyone," Hank said. "You can save the people in front of you and hope it's enough."

"And when the people in front of us are....are going to be the entire mutant race if you get that device working fully?" Alex asked, "What do we do then, Hank?"

"Get to as many of them as we can," Hank said, after he thought about it too long.

Alex sighed and then finally nodded, "Yeah, okay, it's a start. Not much of a plan, but it's a start I guess."

"We're maybe building something here," Hank said. "And there's not a lot of us. But it has to be better than—than being killed for who we are, and being abused. And better than killing humans to protect ourselves."

Alex actually flinched at that and nodded again, "Yeah. Okay, point taken. The question's still there of...how young are we talking about here, Hank?"

"As young as they need help," Hank said. "I don't _know_ , Alex."

Alex looked like he was considering saying something again before he sighed, "Yeah, okay. We do what we can."

"It's never going to be a perfect system," Hank said, looking down at his scribbled notes. "But I think—I think things are going to get worse for us long before they get better."

"Isn't that always true?" Alex asked quietly, leaning a bit more into Hank's space to tilt his head at the notes.

Hank laughed, a bit bitterly. "Maybe."

x-x-x-x

Alex paused on his way back to the car from where he had been running errands again—he really needed to see if Sean could get his license so he could hand some of the errands off to him. He thought he heard something and turned in that direction, moving cautiously and ready to pass by if it wasn't something he could do anything about. Glancing down an alley he froze at the sight that greeted him and started moving before he really thought about it.

The pink-haired girl was still snarling at her attackers, even though part of her wing had been torn, and there was blood on her face.

"Hey!" Alex called, just as he slammed his shoulder into one of her attackers, knocking the guy off balance and away from her.

"The fuck are you, another mutant?" one of the attackers, wearing a leather jacket snarled.

"Just someone who doesn't think three on one's a very fair fight," Alex grit out, ducking a swing and slamming his elbow into the guy's nose.

One of the other attackers took a swing at Alex, catching him on the jaw and sending him stumbling back, "A mutant-lover then. Not much better, you ask me."

The girl launched herself at one of her attackers, ignoring the cut that was dripping blood into one of her eyes.

Alex kicked out, catching one of the others just under the knee and dodging back to yank a second off balance so he couldn't go to help the one the girl was retaliating against. Alex doubled over as the guy he was fighting caught him in the gut, but managed to swing to the side just enough to avoid another fist to the jaw.

Once they were being actively attacked, the three men content to beat up on one girl, decided the battle was no longer for them. Alex held his side, grimacing as the three took off. He drew a breath, letting it out slowly before turning to the girl, "Hey, you, you look like you could use a hand."

She looked up at him, finally revealing her totally black eyes.

He looked her over, "Oh hell. There's a safe place for you, for us. We can get your wing treated there. If you'll, it's gonna require some trust."

"Who are you?" she asked, in a voice that seemed like usually it would be chipper and instead was wary.

"I'm Alex. I'm a mutant, I just don't...look like one," Alex answered, thinking that pretty much any of the others would have been better in this situation.

The girl considered him, pressing herself as much against the wall as she could with her wings. "What do you want from me?"

Alex rocked back on his heels, taking a step back and giving her space, "Nothing, I swear. And I know how untrue that probably sounds."

Her eyes narrowed again. The tip of one of her wings twitched and she started to inch forward.

Alex leaned back, but not enough to be retreating from her, "What's your name?"

"Megan," she said and tilted her chin toward him.

Alex nodded slightly, "You from around here?"

"No," she said.

"Me neither, originally," Alex admitted. "I live outside of town now."

"I bet I come from further away," she said.

"I dunno," Alex said with a bit of a grin. "I'm from Nebraska originally."

"I came across an ocean," she said, still watching him in the dim light of the alley

Alex blinked, "Yeah, you've got me beat. How the hell did you end up here?"

"Nowhere else to go," she said, head tilted.

He considered that and then nodded, "I know how that goes, yeah. Look, you got a place to stay at all? There's a safe place for mutants, just outside of town."

"Outside of town?" she asked, all the distrust suddenly coming back.

Alex held his hands up at that, "I know it sounds sketchy. But it's a large property that's a school for mutants. That's why it's outside of town. Swear to god."

She frowned at him until a particularly cold breeze made her shiver.

Alex moved slowly, shrugging out of his coat and holding it out to her, "I swear, I'm not going to hurt you. And I'm not going to take you to somewhere that will. There's someone else there with wings, though they're different from yours, and someone with fur too."

"I don't trust you," she said, but accepted the jacket, wincing when it covered her wings.

"You don't have any reason to. If you trusted me straight off I'd be worried about brain damage," Alex said, rocking back on his heels again and crossing his arms. "Not...sure how to prove what I'm saying is the truth though."

"I don't know either," she said. "I guess it can't be any worse than anywhere else I've been."

"...Suddenly I understand why Hank hates it when I say shit like that," Alex muttered. "I've got a car parked up the street, was running errands. If you don't like it at the school you can leave. But at least let us patch up your wing?"

For another moment she didn't move before finally nodding and standing.

Alex reached for his pocket before shaking his head, "Left hand pocket of that coat has the car keys, can you toss 'em here?"

She hesitated, before pulling them out and throwing them over. 

Alex caught them, pausing before turning to head for the entrance to the alley, picking up the bag he'd dropped when he dove into the fight and just hoping nothing was broken. She followed him after another moment, cautious and staying out of reach.

Alex glanced at her once, but made his way down to the car, unlocking the driver's door and then leaning in to unlock all three of the other doors before setting the bag in the backseat. He glanced at her as she climbed into the back seat on the passenger side, still wearing his coat.

He started the car and pulled away from the curb, driving out of town and only stopping when they finally reached the mansion and glancing in the mirror at her, "Still good?"

"This looks sketchy," she said and Hank came out the front door.

Alex nodded, "Yeah, and it sounded sketchy in town." He looked toward the front door, "Hey, Hank. Warren around?"

"You're late and—" Hank stopped, blinked at Megan, and then blinked back at Alex. "What?"

"Had to deal with some assholes. Hank, Megan, Megan, Hank. Is Warren around?" Alex said.

"I see you disagree with me in theory, but agree in principle," Hank said.

"You're blue," Megan said. 

"And you're pink," Hank said. "I'll go find Warren, I think he was taking photos from the top of the dish again."

"Assholes in an alley, Hank," Alex said. "And I never said I disagreed entirely. Think if I shout loud enough he'll hear me?"

"Could just let me do it," Sean said from where he had just come out of the mansion.

"No thanks, I'd rather keep my hearing for a while still," Alex said.

Hank shook his head and walked away, Megan's gaze following him.

Alex let out a sharp whistle and then cupped his hands around his mouth, "Oi, b—"

Sean clapped a hand over Alex's mouth and shouted, "Warren!"

Alex winced and pulled away, "Jesus fuck, Cassidy. At least your voice didn't crack this time."

Hank stopped and turned around. "Did I _not_ just say I was going to get him?"

Alex shrugged, "Yeah, so?"

"So what was that?" Hank asked and Megan was still staring at him.

Alex shrugged again, sliding his hands into his pockets, "An attempt to see if he could hear from here?"

Hank frowned at him and before he could say anything else Warren swooped down, landing with his camera around his neck. " _What_?" he snapped at Sean.

Sean shrugged, "Guess that answers that question."

"Cassidy, he could be in the next county and hear you," Alex said. "Warren, meet Megan. Megan, the guy with wings I mentioned."

"What?" Warren started to ask again, already turning his head and Megan and he stared at each other. "Those are awesome wings," Warren settled for. "Also you look like you ran into a tractor."

"Something like that," she said after a beat.

"Yeah," Alex said. "Let's get you patched up?"

She shifted from side to side before nodding. As they turned and entered the house, Warren leaned closer to Hank. "Are we finally getting a girl student?" he whispered. 

"It looks like," Hank said and followed Alex and Megan.

"We'll need to get you set up with a room," Alex was saying to Megan as they walked.

"A... room?" she asked hesitantly.

"A place to stay," Alex clarified. "Windows that open, dresser, bed. A space of your own."

"I know what a room is!"

Alex grinned, "Just thought I'd check."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "I haven't always been on my own," she said, but seemed more relaxed for the simple reason that the other boys had shown obvious mutant abilities or appearances. She paused, turning back to look at Hank. "You are a mutant right? Not an alien or something?"

"Pretty sure I was born on earth," Hank said.

Alex glanced at Hank, keeping whatever crossed his mind behind his teeth for once.

"Doesn't mean you can't be an alien," she said after a beat. 

"I'm fairly certain I'm a mutant," Hank said and was smiling faintly at her when he said the word as if it didn't even occur to him that usually he winced.

Alex paused at that, blinking but bit his tongue on the thought again, "Also a genius, but I think that's unrelated."

"Actually my elevated mental state might be a side effect of my mutation," Hank said after a moment's silence.

" _Might_ ," Alex said. "You have no way of actually empirically proving that, and it didn't change, did it?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Hank said and pushed open the door to where the first aid supplies were. "Maybe we need a real doctor."

"Find one that'll treat a visible mutant and we'll talk," Alex said in response.

"I suppose I could start working on another degree," Hank said mildly and Megan hopped up onto the table when Hank gestured at it. 

"What's his mutation?" she asked, tipping her head toward Alex.

"I blow things up," Alex said. "Sort of. It's...complicated."

"He's very sensitive about it," Hank said to Megan like he was confiding a secret to her and she cracked a smile.

"Hey, you explain it better than that. Some things blow up, some things catch fire," Alex said, rolling his eyes.

"It is strange," Hank said after a beat. "Which one it's going to be—blowing up or on fire."

"Doesn't matter, still basically a destructo ray," Alex said with a shrug, tone almost flippant.

Hank considered him a moment before turning back to Megan. "Where are you from?"

"Wales," she said. 

"You've come a long way."

"Definitely further than Nebraska," Alex said, easily.

"A bit," she agreed, relaxing slowly more and more.

"How many degrees would a medical one make it, Hank?" Alex asked abruptly.

"Three?" Hank said after a beat. "And a half? Or something?"

"Jesus," Alex said, blinking.

Hank shrugged, looking self-conscious as he wrapped a bandage around Megan's wrist. "I started young is all."

"Still impressive," Alex said, leaning back against the wall.

"Maybe," Hank shrugged.

Alex just shook his head, falling silent again.

Megan waited until Hank looked up again. "Is this a safe place?" she asked.

Hank blinked once. "What?"

Alex breathed out slowly, "Is it safe here, Hank?"

"Yes," Hank said with the conviction if it wasn't, he would make it so.

Alex nodded very slightly, settling fully back against the wall again.

"Alright," she said, giving him another hesitant smile.

"Hank, you want to let the prof know or are you going to make me do it?" Alex asked.

"You brought her here," Hank said happily.

"Fuck you, Hank," Alex said, no real heat behind the words.

"It's your responsibility," Hank said, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

"Pain in my ass," Alex muttered, his lips twitching upward. "Yeah, yeah, alright, I'll talk to Charles. You able to find Megan a room?

"I think I'll be able to manage out of the dozens standing empty," Hank said.

Alex snorted, glancing at Hank and then at Megan, "Alright, I'll see you both later then?"

She nodded and Hank gave him a softer smile. "Good luck."

Alex nodded once and slipped out to find Charles and let him know about the new occupant in the mansion. He hesitated outside of the door to Charles' study, finally knocking and waiting just long enough for a quiet "come in" before he was pushing the door open and stepping inside. He closed the door, leaning against it.

Charles looked up from the book in his hands, "Ah, Alex. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to let you know there's a new student. A girl," Alex said, letting his eyes drift around the room to the shelves of books, and the large ornate desk.

"Really? And she just...happened to arrive?" Charles asked, arching an eyebrow.

"No, no I brought her. She was in trouble in town and she needed help. That's what we're here for, right? To help mutants who need it?"

Charles nodded slowly, "Yes, that's what we're here for. How did you know she was one of us?"

"Well the pink hair and the fairy wings were pretty big clues," Alex said, hands behind his back, one resting on the door handle.

"I suppose they would be. She has a room?" Charles asked.

"Hank's patching her up and then yeah, we'll find her a room. Her name's Megan, by the way. And she's a long way from home," Alex said.

"Anything else you want to know?"

Charles shook his head, "No, I expect I'll meet her later."

Alex bit his tongue, hard, and then nodded, "Yeah, probably. I'll see you later, Professor."

"Good day, Alex," Charles said.

Alex opened his mouth again, but closed it and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

x-x-x-x

Several hours later Hank made his way to the garage, figuring Alex would be down there working on cars. He knocked and entered without waiting to hear anything. Which was probably a wise decision as Alex was under one of the cars and had the radio up loudly enough he probably hadn't heard the knock.

"You've had quite the night," Hank said, turning the radio down.

Alex cursed from under the car, rolling out on the dolly he was laying on, "Shit, Hank, you trying to give me a heart attack? Did I miss dinner again?"

"Yeah," Hank said. "Megan ate something and then more or less collapsed into bed. Sean helped with the sheets. We need to keep an eye on her the next couple days—I don't _think_ anything is broken but—"

"Fuck. I'm sorry, I meant to be there," Alex said, raking a hand through his hair and leaving a black streak behind.

"She almost fell asleep on her sandwich," Hank said, amused. "It's okay."

"That's not really the point, Hank."

Hank shrugged. "She's okay. If that helps."

Alex sighed, "Yeah, it does a bit." He leaned his head back against the car, "Fuck Charles, by the way."

Hank's brows twitched up. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Alex said. "I dunno, I just....does he even hear himself sometimes?"

"Absolutely not," Hank said without pausing to think about it.

"Like I said, fuck Charles," Alex said, pushing away from the car and getting to his feet.

Hank shrugged. "He is what he is," he said finally.

Alex muttered under his breath at that, "Yeah, great, huge consolation."

Hank frowned at him. "I thought—I thought you might be happy."

Alex sighed, rubbing at his temple, "I am. I was. I _am_ about, about her. I'm glad she's safe here. I'm glad I found her when I did. I just....I'm sick of him not caring."

Hank looked away, unable to think of anything to say to that. "I—I'm glad she's here too. That you found someone to—that it was your choice to meet and bring here."

Alex glanced at him, "Yeah, well, I couldn't just leave her there. She needed help."

"I'm glad you were there," Hank said, tilting his head and almost looking warily at Alex.

"What?" Alex demanded.

Hank sighed. "You're angry again. I'll just—leave you to work on your cars."

Alex drew a deep breath, "No, no it's not helping. I've been at it for hours and all it's doing is simmering."

"Do you need to yell at someone?" Hank asked, arching his brows.

"You offering?" Alex asked before he shook his head, "Fuck if I know. I'm not mad at you, I don't think it'd do much good. I will say though that I think my point was proven about how you as you can be a good thing today."

"Right. I don't think that's going to help a lot of people," Hank said, looking away. "Besides, I'm sure I could come up with something to make you angry."

Alex stared at him, "Well, you just got a few steps closer to it for sure."

"See?" Hank said and chuckled once, shaking his head slightly.

Alex shook his head, "I thought the point was we were trying not to fight? Wasn't that the whole idea behind truce, and that play, and just....kinda...most everything?"

"Yes," Hank said. "But if you need to be angry at someone else...." he shrugged.

Alex shook his head, "No, not tonight. Not...not at you." He sighed, "Look, I don't know. I'm angry, yeah, but not, not like usual. I don't want to fight. I'm too fucking tired."

Hank stared at him. "Come on, Alex," he said softly. "Let's get you back to bed too."

Alex stared at Hank for a long moment before he shook his head and sighed, "Yeah, lemme just get this stuff put away."

"You could finish it in the morning," Hank said and sighed at himself. "Never mind me."

"Yeah, yeah I could," Alex said, looking around the garage. "Y'know what, yeah. I should get to bed."

"Yeah," Hank said. "Good night," and took a step back toward the stairs.

"I," Alex closed his mouth, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "You gonna get sleep tonight?"

Hank shrugged. "Maybe? I'm not tired yet and I had an idea about Cerebro. I also have an essay for that long distance teacher certification."

"You been getting enough sleep? I know you said you don't need as much as, as before, but..." Alex hesitated.

"I'm trying," Hank said. "But since—it's better to stay busy until I'm tired than try to force myself to sleep. I just end up staring at the ceiling for hours."

"Is it your brain working overtime, or something else?" Alex asked.

"It's probably a mix of my new body and that, yes."

Alex considered him for a moment before frowning slightly, "Have you brushed your fur?"

"Um," Hank shook his head. "What?"

"Brush. Have you brushed your fur?" Alex repeated.

"I, no," Hank said. "I feel like this conversation got surreal."

"A bit," Alex said. "You really should. It might help, some with the relaxing thing. I dunno though, just a guess."

Hank looked away. "Maybe," he said. "I don't find the idea very relaxing."

Alex hesitated, fidgeting for a moment, "You want to try it?"

"What?"

"Brushing. I dunno, just, your back?" Alex stumbled over his words, "You know what, forget it, I don't even know what I'm saying."

"You mean—you? Brush? Me?" Hank asked, tripping over the words.

Alex shrugged, the motion tight and barely more than a twitch, "Unless you can figure out how to reach your middle back."

Hank's jaw worked. "I'm not sure I've agreed with this whole brushing thing?"

"It's an offer. Not saying you have to accept it," Alex said, turning his head to look at the wall.

Hank stared at him, the silence stretching into uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Alex said after a long moment. "Look, you're right. I'm tired, clearly my brain's not working. I'm gonna just....go upstairs to bed, yeah?"

"Thank you for the offer," Hank mumbled, not looking at him.

Alex swallowed and shrugged, "Yeah. G'night, Hank."

"Sleep well," Hank offered.

"You too when you finally get there," Alex said, hesitating for another minute before he retreated out of the garage and up the stairs inside. After he left Hank stared down at his hands, flexing his fingers and trying just to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Pixie! Megan Gwynn is amazing and we're so happy to introduce her here.
> 
> We love hearing from our readers and look forward to it each chapter! So, on that note, we look forward to hearing from you all, what you think, any questions, etc.


	9. I Have Not Been Subtle

Alex rocked back on his heels, "So remind me again why we're doing this training with Bishop?"

"Because—I have no idea," Warren said. "It should be entertaining?"

"Not exactly the word I would use for training with Bishop," Sean said. "But interesting at least."

Hank came out of the kitchen rubbing his eyes, Megan hovering in the air behind him.

Alex glanced over at Hank, frowning slightly, "Did you sleep at all?"

Hank shrugged. "I've gone longer without it."

"You don't sleep?" Megan asked and Warren was considering the way she could hover with envy.

Alex shook his head, "Apparently he doesn't sleep. He _should_ sleep more than he does I think."

Sean raised his eyebrows, "Alex are you worrying about Hank?"

"Doesn't he usually?" Megan asked, head cocked to one side and Hank looked from Alex to Sean and finally to Megan.

Alex shrugged, "I..."

Sean nodded, "He does, I just like pointing it out cause he doesn't usually admit it."

"You know what, Cassidy?" Alex said, scowling at him.

"Oh good," Megan said. "It just seemed like he cared a lot last night too."

Alex shifted to stare at her, "What? I..."

"You cared enough to step in and protect me," she said. "And you seemed to care about him too. You care."

Alex shifted at that, "I, well, you, you needed help. Or you looked like it?"

Sean rolled his eyes, "We were meeting Bishop in the ballroom, weren't we? Or on the front lawn?"

"Lawn," Hank said immediately.

"Fuck, Cassidy, you think _I'm_ training _indoors_?" Alex said, turning for the front door. "I thought you liked the building."

"I like the building," Warren chimed in.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Alex muttered.

Sean shook his head, "You like it too, Alex, and you like the people in it too."

"Even if you won't admit it," Warren said and lightly punched him in the arm. "Admit it! You like all of us."

"I like Hank and Megan. The rest of you are up for debate," Alex said, moving quickly and catching Warren in a brief headlock before letting him go again.

Slightly behind him Hank abruptly stopped walking. It took him a couple seconds to start moving again, Megan still right at his shoulder and only a couple feet off the ground.

Sean glanced at Hank and then to Megan, "You get used to them...in theory."

She just smiled at them as Warren pushed open the front door and took off, swooping through the air in a couple complicated turns.

"Birdbrain," Alex muttered under his breath as he stepped out the door, ducking as Sean took a halfhearted swing from behind him.

Bishop stood out on the lawn with Sage, talking to her and only barely looking up to watch Warren. Alex slid his hands into his pockets as he crossed the lawn toward them. Sage glanced up as they approached, her eyebrows rising slightly.

Bishop turned his head when she looked over, eyes widening when he saw Megan. "When did we get another student?" he asked, eyes flickering around her face.

"Yesterday," Alex said. "Problem?"

"No," Sage said, but she still hadn't looked away from Megan.

She fluttered her wings, alighting next to Alex with them both staring at her and not quite curling up behind him.

Alex's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest, "So we were going to train right?"

Bishop blinked and nodded. "Not train so much as—I know Charles worked with some of you originally to control your powers. And considering we're mutants while I'm not going to try and teach you how to fight for the sake of fighting," and his eyes went over to Megan without meaning to. "I will teach you self-defense." 

Hank crossed his arms but otherwise didn't move or react.

"Self-defense," Alex's voice was flat. "What do you consider self-defense?"

"Whatever you need to know to be able to defend yourself," Bishop said. "We're mutants. No one else is going to do it for us."

Sean glanced at Alex, "He's got a point."

"Yeah, sure he does," Alex agreed, not relaxing in the least.

"Some of you need to learn how to protect yourselves from yourselves," Bishop said and somehow he wasn't looking at Alex when he said it. "And all from the outside world. It's only going to get worse from here."

"You can't possibly know that," Sean said after a moment.

"It's not that big an extrapolation," Sage said, finally looking away from Megan and Alex.

Bishop didn't reply, simply turning away. "The point is, I want to know where your powers are, and see if we can figure out a way to use them for defense. As I said I know Charles worked with some of you, but he doesn't seem up to that anymore at the moment. So I'll be in charge of powers now."

"Fantastic," Alex muttered.

Sean nodded, "So, how are we going about this?"

"I want to get a baseline where everyone is at," Bishop said, as if struggling for the words.

Sage spoke, "We need to see a demonstration of your powers, get a feeling for what you know of them."

Alex tensed further, "Hell no. I don't....no."

Hank reached a hand out, resting it on his shoulder. "Alex—"

Alex shrugged Hank's hand off, "Don't. No, I don't just _demonstrate_ my power. Are you out of your fucking minds?"

"It would probably be a good idea," Hank said. "You're not going to hurt us."

"I do nothing but hurt with it, don't you get that yet?" Alex snapped.

"And if you don't learn to control it, that will always be the case," Hank said. "I'm not asking you to show off right here, either. But there's a lot of space out here."

Alex's hands shook and he looked at Hank, "Can you promise me I won't hurt you?"

Hank just pointed to the satellite. "I suggest up there for starters."

"Heights," Alex said, paling very slightly. "Nope, I can't do this."

"Alright," Hank said without missing a beat. "Does your power ever go backwards?"

"Not....really? I....not with the adapter," Alex said. "I don't, I can't guide it very well normally."

"Yeah, except for the Beach," Sean said.

Hank paused and turned his head. "What?"

Alex startled, having forgotten the others there, "What?"

Sean blinked at them both, "Are you serious? Do you remember what happened to the adapter during that fight? You aimed and hit Angel before she got a second shot off, is what happened. _Without_ the adapter."

Alex stared at him, "I....did? I, I did."

"I did not see this," Hank said after a beat and Bishop was quietly watching all three of them.

"Yeah, you were otherwise occupied. It was after I picked him up off that ship," Sean said. "You did it then, Alex. You could again."

"Or it was a fluke," Alex said.

"Even in the courtyard you managed to keep it mostly forward, some sideways but none behind," Sean shot back.

"Alex!" Hank said in excitement.

"You're going to make me do this thing, aren't you?" Alex asked.

"Don't you see? If you can learn to control it—the adapter of course is a good back up and funnel but it could be modified, even less bulky and more for simple back up and fine tuning and you wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what?" Alex asked, his tone flat.

"Have to worry about your power going nuts, or the adapter being a giant damn target on your chest," Sean said.

"Exactly!" Hank said, spreading his arms out and mind already five steps ahead in adapting his technology. "Before you didn't even think you could learn to control it a little but now—"

"Great, wonderful. Can we get this 'demonstration' out of the way then? Hope Charles isn't attached to the landscaping," Alex muttered, his shoulders hunching slightly.

"There's a hill over there if you want some elevation," Bishop offered and Megan drifted closer to Hank again. 

"What was the beach?" she asked softly.

"Elevation's not going to make much difference I don't think," Alex said. "Since I'm not actually sure how to fucking aim this."

"Point, weirdly enough," Sean said. "Both arms. It's like...a physical guide I think?"

Alex raised his eyebrows at that, "If you say so..."

"It's worth a try," Bishop said, crossing his arms as Hank simply stared down at Megan.

"Get Warren to land first," Alex said as he walked past Bishop and Sage toward the very slight rise.

"Warren!" Bishop called, Megan watching Hank expectantly. 

"It," Hank started and looked desperately at Sean, hoping he had heard the question too.

"It was a whole big mess last year. Um, big fight, almost got blown up, almost started World War Three," Sean said. "It was a thing."

She blinked, her black eyes concerned. "Is that why you're scared of yourselves?"

"Scared of ourselves?" Sean asked, frowning.

Hank stared at her and she shrugged. "Some of you are."

"She's pointedly not saying me and Alex," Hank said, because Alex was mostly out of ear shot.

"Yeah, yeah she is," Sean agreed.

Alex called back when he was where he apparently judged as safe a distance as he was going to get, "Set?"

"Yes!" Bishop called back and Hank looked away from Megan and Sean.

Alex was still for a long moment before the glow of his power ringed his shoulders and he aimed, mostly upward, cutting it off quickly and having to brace himself when he had. One of the three bolts of his power had followed the trajectory of his aim, and the other two hadn’t been as far off as he seemed to believe they would be. Megan's eyes had widened and Hank was gripping one of his elbows too hard.

Bishop nodded. "Not bad," he said, mildly.

"Not bad he says," Sean murmured.

Sage was watching Alex appraisingly as he made his way back over to them, "It's not explosive."

Megan's wings fluttered and Warren looked caught between excitement and wariness. "This is what you do in the bunker all day? Wow."

Alex shrugged, looking wary, "Yeah, pretty much. And what do you mean it's not explosive?"

Sage shrugged slightly, "I mean, it's not explosive. It's....it might be heat. Would take study though."

Hank blinked opened his mouth and shut it again.

Alex scowled at Sage, "Not your lab rat. I'll practice it, I'll fine tune it, but..."

"Not that sort of study," Sage said. "Just more demonstrations. Data gathering mostly."

Alex didn't look reassured by that at all.

"We can work on that," Bishop said.

Alex shifted, "Right, yeah, okay. Next?"

"Probably me," Sean said. "Though I should go get the harness to show part of it, maybe."

"It's up to you," Bishop said after a beat.

Sean considered that and shrugged, "I can do it without, but it's the furthest reach I know about."

Alex crossed his arms and looked at Sage and Bishop, "Or you two could demonstrate first."

Bishop turned to him. "Excuse me?"

"Just what I said," Alex said. "You're learning a lot about our powers, potentially, but we don't know anything about yours."

Bishop crossed his arms and Hank shook his head. "That's a bad idea,"

Alex's eyes narrowed, "Why?"

"It's just a bad idea," Hank said, folding his arms over his chest

Alex turned to face him, "What do you know?"

"Enough that it's a bad idea," Hank said. 

"Are you asking me to show you?" Bishop asked after he watched Alex.

Sean glanced at Hank, "Alex maybe, maybe not...."

Alex faced off against Bishop, "Yeah, that's pretty much exactly what I'm saying."

"You'll have to fire at me if you want a demonstration," Bishop said, voice flat because he had figured out who he was supposed to be hiding his powers from.

Alex paled and leaned back at that, "What? You...are you _out of your fucking mind_?"

"Despite some rocky periods I'm actually quite sure I've never been out of my own mind," Bishop replied.

"What do you do?" Alex demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, though it was looking progressively more defensive.

"I absorb energy," Bishop said, levelly meeting his eyes.

Alex stared at him, "You absorb energy. You reroute it too?"

"I can," Bishop said. "Or I can store it and use it to boost my reserves and heal."

"Fuck this." Alex said, turning on his heel and starting toward the mansion.

"I'm sorry," Bishop said, still level. "Do I offend you with my existence?"

Alex paused, not facing Bishop, "Not what I said. Just not—you know what? I don't actually owe you an explanation right now."

"You're the one who demanded to know," Bishop said and Hank started growling without seeming to realize what he was doing.

Sean shifted a half step away from Hank. Alex turned around, his temper clear, but he didn't seem to notice or at least acknowledge the growl from Hank, "Yeah, because you two are gathering a hell of a lot of information about us without offering a damn thing!"

"That often is the role of a teacher," Bishop said and it was obvious it was not his first reaction.

Alex's hands balled into fists, "Is that what you're calling this?"

"Did I not say I was going to teach you how to control your powers and use them for defense?" Bishop asked.

Alex stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head once and turning to retreat again. That time Bishop let him go, glancing at Hank who had stopped growling when Alex left. 

"I would like to learn how to defend myself," Megan said, still hovering near Hank's shoulder.

Sean watched Alex go before nodding, "Same."

Bishop took a deep breath, slowly letting it out before he squared his shoulders. "Alright."

x-x-x-x

Raven went through a series of stretches on her own, still not entirely certain where she stood. There was something of a truce, sort of, with Emma and Angel. Janos seemed to tolerate her. Erik was, well, he was Erik. And fuck knew about Azazel. She was starting to feel like maybe it hadn't actually been as horrible an idea to come with them as it had felt initially.

There was still a slight pang when she thought about Charles on the beach, but that wasn't enough for her to go back, or frankly even to reach out to him. She knew he was alive and had gotten home. That was what mattered.

As she bent down in one of the stretches, Azazel appeared in a cloud of red smoke directly behind her. "You seem to spend a lot of time here by yourself."

"Easier to think," Raven said straightening up sharply and turning to face him, putting a step between them.

Azazel nodded and walked around the room, hands behind his back and squinting at the walls like they could tell him something. "I had no idea Shaw had a gym."

"It's a fairly useful room," she said, watching him warily.

"True, but when you can keep yourself young by absorbing, hm, energy, it doesn't really matter if you keep in shape does it? Your mutation does it for you."

"It probably wasn't for him," Raven said.

"Then who for? Emma doesn't, Janos doesn't, that leaves me and I, well I prefer other forms of exercise."

Raven shrugged, ignoring the last comment entirely, "Hell if I know, I wasn't around when he was."

Azazel tilted his head. "You do not like me."

"I don't know what I think of you," Raven corrected, watching him.

"No?" he smiled at her. "It seems you do."

"I don't trust you. At all. I can't predict you," Raven said, barely twitching her shoulder in a shrug.

"And it has nothing to do with the CIA agents?"

"Of course it has something to do with the CIA agents. I can't fly any better than they could," Raven said bluntly.

Azazel smiled at her, not quite showing his teeth. "Ah, pragmatic. I think Janos would be disappointed.

"Oh?" Raven asked, "Why?"

"He's, hm, oddly optimistic about human beings. But when he's the only one to talk to for months and a time there's not much choice. These new people, it's much more exciting."

"Hard to stay optimistic about people," Raven said with a shrug.

Azazel barked out something that might have been a laugh. "Indeed it is."

"So did you want something or did you get tired of pestering Janos?"

"Something of both. As I said, new people are interesting and as you've been avoiding me, I must seek you out if I am to understand you. And I do want to understand you." He turned, paced and then faced her again. "After all, you get bored with the same people. Shaw for instance—a brilliant mind. Unique. Visionary maybe. But also very stupid."

"Visionary who thought the way to mutant power was nuking the world, yeah stupid is certainly a word I'd use there," Raven agreed, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms loosely.

Azazel shrugged that off. "More so he treated even his fellow mutants as servants. Get me drinks, pilot my sub, fight off my enemies. For what? A distant utopia while we serve other mutants today?"

"How would you do it?" Raven asked.

Azazel shrugged. "Who says I'm all that interested in such a thing? Shaw was fascinating to follow. It meant life wasn't boring. But ultimately ineffective."

"What are you interested in then?"

Azazel cocked his head and grinned. "Not being bored."

Raven rolled her eyes, "Why am I not surprised by that answer."

"Because the one thing I want most is not to be bored," Azazel said. "And I like a challenge."

"A challenge, huh?" Raven asked, sizing him up, "And what challenges you, then?"

"Well, currently you," Azazel said. "After all, I do so prefer to be liked."

"Sure you won't get bored before this challenge is over?" Raven said.

"We shall simply have to see."

She grinned at that, knowing the expression was sharp, "We shall."

"Admit it, you like the challenge too."

"I never said I didn't," Raven said.

He smirked at her, inclining his head before disappearing in another puff of smoke. Raven waved her hand in front of her face, shaking her head before going back to her stretches.

x-x-x-x

"You do see sunlight, don't you?" Megan asked, sitting on the steel counter in Hank's lab and kicking her legs in the air as Hank peered through a microscope.

"I see plenty of sunlight," he muttered.

Alex tapped on the door and pushed it further open to step in, "You see sunlight when someone opens the curtains or drags you outside."

"See? I see plenty," Hank said, distractedly pushing the microscope away and reaching for a note book, scribbling something down before focusing on Megan. "Actually, since you're here I've been meaning to ask you about what you wanted to do about your wings."

She fluttered her wings, frowning at him. "What do you mean?"

Alex tensed, glancing at Hank and then at Megan before he seemed to force himself to relax.

"I mean," Hank blinked and seemed to realize he was talking to actual people. "If you want a harness like Warren's—only your wings present other unique challenges his would not—to go out in public with. I'd offer an image inducer except that I'm fairly certain it would be unable to cope with the space the wings take up."

"Do your wings fold? I don't think I've seen you with them....not extended," Alex said quietly.

Megan fluttered them again and then slowly ducked them behind her back, folding them down piece by piece. "I do it to sleep sometimes," she said. "But I don't really like it."

Alex nodded, "Fair."

Hank instantly was moving, taking a couple quick measurements. "I mean, it's totally your own choice. I'm not sure how your wings would react to the bindings anyway because they look more like butterfly wings. I assume they can be touched? Simply because they would be torn in a matter of weeks if not but at the same time—" he started moving around the lab again and Megan flicked her wings back out, looking at Alex. 

"Does he usually get like this?"

"You should have seen him with the first adapter," Alex said with a grin, darting a glance toward Hank before he focused back on Megan. Hank blinked over at him for a second before shaking his head and bustling around again, pulling open drawers and considering different material. 

Megan tilted her head at Alex. "The one he made for you?"

Alex nodded, "Yeah. He built most of our gear, actually. My adapter, Sean's glider."

Megan blinked and looked around the lab again. "That's a sewing machine over there."

"How else would I be able to make uniforms for everyone," Hank said distractedly.

"Oh, that's right. He also made the flight suits. That fit alarmingly well," Alex said.

That got Hank's attention. "What?"

Alex shrugged, "What what?"

"I had everyone's measurements," Hank said. "I had to fit Sean with the gilder and you with the adapter vest and Charles and Erik just had to give me theirs."

Alex's gaze sharpened at that, "Forgetting anyone there, Hank?"

Hank frowned at him before his expression smoothed out. "And I asked Raven for hers too."

Alex hummed and nodded before turning his attention back to Megan, "So like he said, uniforms."

"Who's Raven?" Megan asked, eyes moving between them.

"Someone who was here when we first got here," Alex said.

"She left," Hank said shortly. "It was her own choice."

"Lotta choices made," Alex said, wandering a little bit and pausing at a book near Hank's usual workstation. Megan cocked her head and Hank didn't notice yet. Alex ran his fingers over the cover of the book, "This where you found that diagnosis you were telling us about, Hank?"

"Yeah," Hank said when he finally looked up and over.

"Anything else useful in it?" Alex asked, opening the cover and half thumbing through the volume.

"Depends on what you define as useful I suppose," Hank said.

Alex startled and flipped back a couple of pages to check if he had actually seen what he thought he had. He fell very still, his hand tightening on the page, "What do you consider useful?"

Hank looked up again. "Are you angry? What made you angry at a book?"

"This isn't a _disorder_." Alex grit out, "A _disease_." He scowled down at the page defining homosexuality right alongside sadism and as psychopathic in the DSM before looking back up at Hank, "Do you honestly believe this?"

Hank stared at him for a long moment before finally moving over. "I don't even know what you're _talking_ about Alex—" and he came to a complete stop.

Alex took three solid steps away from him at that, "Really? Cause my finger caught on this page, which means it's been read probably more than the others except maybe that one you told us all about."

"That doesn't mean," Hank started and shook his head, looking at his feet.

"Doesn't. Mean. _What_?" Alex snarled.

"Just because I've read something doesn't mean I agree with it."

"Then why don't you try explaining it," Alex said, his hands tightening and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, trying to breathe.

"What?" Hank asked, Megan looking between the two of them before lifting herself off the table to hover above them and read the page in question. "Explain _what_?"

"Why the _fuck_ that's been read so many times? Something else on that page catch your attention?"

"Is there a reason I have to explain myself to you?" Hank said but there was something like devastation lurking around his expression.

Alex tensed at that and stared at Hank, "Fuck you. Just..." He felt his throat tighten, "I didn't ask if you _agreed with it_. I asked if you _believed it_. But you know what? I think I've got my answer."

"You have no idea what I think or believe, Alex Summers," Hank growled, a deep rumble in his chest but for once he didn't startle himself out of his anger at hearing it.

"Try me!" Alex demanded, something strained in his voice.

Hank's jaw twitched. "How would it help you to know that I read that and hoped it wasn't true? How would it help you feel better to know that it just gives me another reason—"

"Fuck them. Seriously," Alex grit out. "I refuse to let them tell me that something's wrong with me because of who I am, what I can do, _and_ who I like. This," he uncrossed his arms to stab a finger toward the book, "is bullshit. I'm fucked in the head but it's got _nothing_ to do with _this_ part of me. It's not _hurting anyone_."

Hank came to a complete stop, just staring at Alex.

Alex froze as he realized what he'd said and he took a half step back, "I'm gonna....I think I should..."

"It's not," Hank said and floundered. "I just didn't—"

"Didn't what?" Alex asked, watching him warily and still poised for a retreat.

"That you were," Hank said, not meeting his eyes. "I don't—I don't think the book is right."

"Then why the fuck were you reading it so much? Not like the words were going to change," Alex snapped.

Hank's eyes dropped again. 

"Alex," Megan said from where she had been hovering over both of them, reading the book as they argued.

Alex startled, looking toward her, "What?"

"Leave him alone," she said softly. "He's obviously distressed so stop pushing."

Alex raked a hand through his hair, biting back the next thing he wanted to say and then nodded, "Yeah, fine. I'll be....fuck I don't know. I'm gonna go cool down."  
Megan looked at Hank who was still studiously staring at the floor before floating after him toward the door. Alex glanced back at Hank once before stepping out of the lab, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

Megan hovered a moment, her wings working too fast. "Are you okay?"

"It's not like I've been _subtle_." Alex muttered before he shook his head and focused on her, "I don't know. I will be."

She landed next to him. "You really like him," she said like it was simple.

Alex shifted at that, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging, "I, yeah I guess I do."

"No, you really like him and you're mad he didn't figure it out."

"For a genius he can be a fucking idiot," Alex muttered. "I have _not been subtle_."

Before he could jerk back or yell she fluttered into the air and launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Alex startled, catching her and keeping his hands away from her wings as best he could, "What the—Megan?"

"What? You looked like you could use a hug."

Alex huffed what might have been a laugh at that, "You're, you're handling all this really well."

"Handling what?"

"Me being....well," Alex shrugged slightly.

"That doesn't bother me," she said, pulling back. "I don't think it bothers him either."

"You don't think so?" Alex asked, glancing back at the lab door.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I don't think it bothers him. He just has to adjust."

Alex didn't look convinced, "If you say so. I...should probably go do my last bits of studying, honestly."

She darted back, hovering again. "Are you almost done with the program?"

"Test's in a couple of weeks," Alex said by way of answer, glancing back toward the lab. "Kinda thinking I still want to keep it a surprise at this point."

She held a finger up to her lips. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

Alex offered her a grin, "Thanks. I'll catch you later?"

"Yeah," she said, and with another reassuring smile fluttered away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> References:  
> [ This is the version of the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual) that Hank would have been referencing. ](http://www.turkpsikiyatri.org/arsiv/dsm-1952.pdf)
> 
> The specific entry that Alex is talking about is the following:  
> 000-x63 Sexual deviation  
> This diagnosis is reserved for deviant sexuality which is not symptomatic of more extensive syndromes, such as schizophrenic and obsessional reactions. The term includes most of the cases formerly classed as "psychopathic personality with pathologic sexuality." The diagnosis will specify the type of the pathologic behavior, such as homosexuality, transvestism, pedophilia, fetishism and sexual sadism (including rape, sexual assault, mutilation). (Pages 51-52 of the above linked (1952 edition) DSM)


	10. The Determining Factor

Erik ran a coin through his fingers, not using his powers but reassured by the feel of the metal in his fingers. He considered getting a ring or something else to create the same effect, but for years a specific coin has been his constant companion.

He was still trying to track the moment when deciding to write back to Charles ended in agreeing to meet with him, in public and away from their respective groups. 

He curled the coin in his fingers, watching the humans walking down the street in front of the café and breathed. Emma had given him a too knowing look when he put on the fedora and dark jacket and went out the door and he almost stood up and left right then and there.

There was a soft chime of the bell at the door as it opened, Charles wheeling in as someone walked out. He glanced around before focusing on Erik and maneuvering his chair over, "Hello, Erik."

"Charles," Erik said, gripping his fingers around the coin, the metal digging into his palm.

Charles considered the table and carefully positioned his chair in an empty place at it, "I'm surprised you agreed to this."

"Honestly, I am too."

Charles' lips twitched upward at that, "How are you? Productive, I've noticed." There was something wry in his voice.

"Not very," Erik said darkly and shook his head. "Are things like that really what you want to talk about?"

"I've no idea what I want to talk about actually," Charles said.

"You're the one who wanted this," Erik said, having been unable to relax.

Charles hummed at that and nodded, glancing around again, a small crease between his brows, "If you didn't you could have turned me down, you know."

"I considered it—turning you down I mean. And yet I suspect in the end it would have come to this anyway."

"Eventually," Charles agreed.

Erik stared at him, eyes moving around his face. "You really don't believe in other people's boundaries, do you?"

Charles met his gaze, frowning very slightly, "I don't know what you mean."

"If I never wanted to hear from you again, you'd send me enough letters to drown in. If I didn't want to see you, you'd pester me until it happened."

"I don't recall being the one to initiate this, not really. You diverted from whatever you were doing to speak with me. To kiss me and you expected me to leave it at that?"

Erik's hand clenched the coin again and inside his palm he started shaping the metal, changing it. "It was a moment of weakness," he admitted. "But what if that's all I wanted it to be?"

"Was that all you wanted it to be?" Charles asked.

"Maybe not," Erik said. "But maybe I did."

"Why bother to play what ifs?" Charles asked. "We know where we are and we know how we got here."

Erik closed his eyes and breathed. "Charles. What did you want to talk about?"

"Where do we go from here, Erik? Did you want it to be a moment of weakness?" Charles asked.

"I'm considering the merits of leaving it as such," Erik said. "We—were barely a good idea to begin with."

"Not everything has to be a good idea," Charles said.

"And Moira?" Erik asked, almost like he was changing the subject.

Charles blinked, his brow creasing, "What about her?"

Erik's brows just twitched. "You tend to be fairly free in your affections."

"When I've no commitment to someone, that can be true, yes," Charles agreed easily.

Erik paused as if that had given some hope. "And if you are committed?"

Charles frowned, "Then there's no reason to be 'free in my affections' as you so tactfully put it."

Erik looked away, obviously frustrated about something. "There are better people to pin any affection to."

"Oh for the love of _god_ , Erik," Charles said. "It's not as though you've chosen much better."

"You're the one that wants to be the idealist," Erik said. "Have you considered the hit your reputation would take to be associated with me?"

"Have you considered yours?" Charles replied, "Association with someone who expects a peaceful harmony between humans and mutants is not likely to gain you many supporters of the sort you can make much use of."

Erik shrugged. "I will have action to back my cause. You will have words and promises and peace. That is always easier to sully and destroy."

"Should people find out about this, that's true," Charles said.

Erik stared at him for a long moment. "I suppose that is the determining factor."

Charles drew a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh, "Beyond our....practical ideals being at such odds, it's not as though we can be very, hm, public about this regardless, Erik."

Erik's smile was not amused. "I know. I've been hated for enough other things over the years."

"Can you tolerate that in a personal relationship? The necessary secrecy from your allies as well as from the wider world?" Charles asked.

"If you were trying to keep this secret from Emma Frost you have already failed," Erik said. "And I'm fairly certain Riptide knows."

"If I was trying to keep this a secret from Emma Frost I would have kept quiet until I located you to establish contact which may or may not have happened," Charles said. "That is not my point. I expect we will both gain more people around us. People who....haven't been here since the beginning."

Erik gave a humorless chuckle. "This is all predicated on something happening between us, Charles," but he said the name almost like a caress.

Charles' lips twitched upward, "Yes, it is rather. So, I suppose the relevant question is: are we going to keep our relationship academic and continue writing....well, treatises to one another, or do we wish to see if it goes in a different direction and allow it to do so?"

"That's a very academic way of asking the question," Erik said.

That earned a breath of a laugh, "Yes, I suppose it is. Alright then, do you want this to go somewhere further, Erik, or are we going to let that be a moment of weakness?"

"I should never have said it that way," Erik said.

"No, probably not," Charles agreed, dryly. "Would you prefer to re-word it?"

"I'd never be able to limit you to a moment of weakness, Charles, I think meeting you signed me up for a lifetime of it."

"What do you consider the 'weakness' here, Erik?" Charles asked quietly.

"Caring enough about someone else to compromise myself," Erik said, meeting his eyes.

"Then I suppose we are both in a place of weakness around one another," Charles said.

Erik stared at him, hand still holding the metal that had once been a coin hidden from Charles. "Is that so?"

Charles nodded, "Yes."

"What did you do last time?" Erik asked.

"Last time?" Charles blinked, "You mean the park?"

"Yes," Erik said and his voice sounded a little strained. "No one noticed us except Alex."

"It's a pause in the mind, basically. A...sensation of 'nothing interesting here, no reason to look' mostly," Charles said. "Alex slipped through because he was looking for me as much as anything I think."

"Do it again."

Charles blinked before he smiled, glancing once around the cafe, "Done."

Erik rose and moved around the table this time instead of trying to kiss Charles across it. He dropped down on one knee and leaned up into the kiss.  
Charles' hand moved to Erik's shoulder and he leaned into the kiss, his other hand sliding into Erik's hair. Erik braced his hands on the arms of the wheelchair, pressing up. Charles hummed into the kiss, trying to draw Erik closer.

Erik followed his urging, sliding his hands first to his waist and then higher around his chest. Charles made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, fingers curling where they rested against Erik's shoulder.

Erik drew back, searching his face. Charles stared at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted before he tugged lightly at Erik's shoulder to draw him into another kiss.

Erik went willingly, curling the fingers of his right hand around the side of Charles' chest and holding on there. Charles drew back after another moment, far enough to catch his breath but not to actually dislodge Erik at all, "Erik..."

"Yes, Charles?"

Charles shook his head, running a gentle hand down Erik's cheek, "I...I don't actually have any idea what I was going to say."

"You should work on that," Erik rumbled, nuzzling Charles' shoulder before standing again.

Charles made a quiet sound before carefully curling his hands in his lap, "Yes, yes I probably should."

Erik pushed himself back to his feet, taking a deep breath before dropping the small metal swan he had shaped out of the coin into Charles' hands. "Maybe not public next time."

Charles blinked at the swan before curling his fingers carefully around it and nodding, "I think that would be wise, yes."

Erik considered him, obviously wanting still to say and do more. "In the meantime, Charles, take care of yourself."

"And you, Erik," Charles said softly.

Erik looked like he didn't want to go but he turned and walked through the door of the café anyway. Charles watched him go before looking down at the metal swan, running a finger over it and releasing what control he was still holding on the people around him.

x-x-x-x

Alex knocked on the lab door, stepping inside before Hank could answer, "Hey, Hank, guess what!"

"What?" Hank looked over, Warren and Megan both already in the lab. There was a half guilty look on his face, because he had not been avoiding Alex so much as just not seeking him out or being particularly easy to find.

Alex only half noticed Warren and Megan as he pushed the paper in his hand toward Hank, "I passed. I _did it_."

"Did?" Hank started to ask, eyes going down to the paper in his hands and slowly widening.

Alex grinned, "I passed. I passed _really damn well_. I've got my GED. No idea what the fuck I'm going to do with it, but I've got it."

"You—you graduated high school," Hank said, mind still catching up before his face split into a huge smile.

Alex nodded, his grin never wavering, "I did."

"That's fantastic," Hank said, softly.

Alex nodded, relaxed almost entirely for once, "I....fuck, I'm still surprised. But I did it."

"I'm really proud of you," Hank said. 

"So that's just _more_ of a reason we should go out," Warren chirped and Hank jumped, because he had only had eyes for Alex.

Alex startled, looking toward Warren, "What?"

"We were trying to convince Hank to go out," Megan said and she was grinning at him too. "Or rather all of us. We figured if we got him on our side it would work."

Alex blinked rapidly, "Out. Out where?"

"Dancing!" Warren said. "We—or Hank rather—just finished the harness for Megan's wings and my new one. It's just—we should get out of here you know?" 

Megan shifted. "I can wear a hat to at least cover my ears too." 

"And your adorable antennae," Warren said, leaning toward her from where they were both sitting on the counter and she blushed and patted him on the head.

Alex cleared his throat and glanced at Hank, "So how were they coming on the convincing you thing?"

"Warren has been pointing out I need to test the new inducer at some point," Hank said, looking away.

"Not really an answer there, Hank," Alex said. "You don't have to dance, just go out for a while?"

"Come on," Warren said. "We all deserve to get out." 

Hank hung his head before shrugging. "I mean the worst that can happen is we get run out of town I suppose."

"We're not going to get run out of town," Alex said, firmly.

"See?" Warren said. "Even _Alex_ agrees with me, come on."

"We could even take two cars now that Sean has his license and isn't that a terrifying thought," Alex said. "We can leave when you need to, then."  
"Right," Hank said. 

"We've convince you, haven't we?" Megan asked and smiled sweetly at him. 

Hank sighed and looked at Alex. "You want to do this too?"

Alex shrugged, "Could be good to get out of the mansion for a while that isn't just for errands."

"Okay," Hank said. "You'll have to get Sean then. And I guess the three of us will get outfitted properly."

Alex nodded, "We'll meet you in the garage in a bit, yeah?"

"Okay," Hank said, sounding like he had no idea what he had gotten himself in to.

Alex offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile before slipping out of the lab and going to find Sean, half-hoping he wouldn't encounter anyone else on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: Swans mate for life


	11. Oh Look, One Of You Has Manners

Sean pushed open the door to the club, grinning over his shoulder at Alex and Hank, "I am still genuinely surprised you both agreed to this."

"To be fair, so am I," Hank agreed as Megan and Warren streamed past him into the room. "Does this place even sell alcohol?"

"Fairly sure you're the only one legal to drink it if it does," Alex said, looking like he regretted that fact.

"I was thinking more of instituting a no drinking policy in general," Hank said. "That was a positive."

Alex blinked and then grinned, "Right, yes positive."

"I don't want to wrangle drunk kids," Hank said. Warren and Megan were already on the floor, twisting together, a knit cap pulled down over Megan's ears.

"Point. Doesn't look like they serve alcohol, but," Alex shrugged. "Maybe we should find somewhere to sit?"

"Sure," Hank said after a beat. He shifted his shoulders, trying to adjust to the new image he'd tried to create to fit his new dimensions.

"That image seems to be working alright," Alex murmured just loud enough to hear.

"I'm still trying to deal with the physical touch element," Hank said.

"But hey it's progress," Alex said. "There's a table over there we could set up at."

"Good," Hank said, bee-lining there.

They had barely reached the table when a young woman, her auburn hair pulled back, approached, "Hi."

Hank blinked, glanced behind them and turned back to her. "Uh. Hello?"

She offered him a smile, "I saw you and just...wanted to know if you'd like to dance?"

Alex fell very still for a moment before he dropped into one of the chairs at the table, rocking back in it.

"Um," Hank blinked owlishly at her. "What? Really?"

She nodded, still smiling, "Yes?"

Hank looked desperately at Alex for a second and at the others dancing without quite touching and shrugged. "Uh. Okay?"

"Awesome," she chirped. "My name's Jennifer."

Alex muttered something that sounded like "of course it is."

Hank ignored him, smiling hesitantly at her. "Uh. My hands are a little rough. Just. Just so you know."

"I don't mind," Jennifer said. "Come on, this is a great song."

Hank nodded, following her and sticking to the edge of the dance floor. Across the way when she noticed, Megan cheered and waved at him. Sean half turned in his dancing when he saw Megan wave and grinned, wide enough to be seen most of the way across the floor.

Hank blushed, the inducer picking up on the heat and translating it. "Ignore—anyone. Everyone."

Jennifer laughed, "Everyone? They're friends of yours then?"

"Everyone who acts like they know me," Hank amended quickly. "Friends is a—" he changed his mind from saying a loose term to "a good term."

"They seem nice?" Jennifer offered.

Hank almost laughed and shook his head. "It's nice to see them happy." Megan was struggling with not lifting off the floor in her excitement and Warren spun her around with his arms around her waist.

"You make it sound like that doesn't happen much?"

"It's been a hard couple months," Hank said as the music changed.

Jennifer shrugged, "Well, I hold to the idea that that means things are going to look up."

"That would," Hank started and turned to see a tall woman in heels and a white dress step inside the club. Most of the dancers had turned to stare at her.

"Wow she's gorgeous," Jennifer said.

"Um," Hank said, about to turn away when Erik appeared at her elbow, wearing his usual turtleneck and a fedora.

Alex showed up at Hank's side a moment later, "What the fuck are—" He broke off as he seemed to realize that Jennifer hadn't left.

"Do you happen to know who that is?" Hank asked, as Angel trailed in behind them and Megan and Warren hadn't quite noticed Hank and Alex's attention yet.

"Not a single clue," Alex said as Raven came in a step behind Angel, Sean's attention riveted on the doorway. Hank froze to see her, even more than Erik.

Jennifer glanced at Hank, "More of your friends?"

"Not how I'd put them," Alex said.

Hank seemed to remember she was there. "More the reason times have been hard. Thank you for the dance, Jennifer. It was very nice."

"You too. Good luck," She said, pausing before slipping away to join her own friends.

Hank glanced at Alex and moved forward on an intercept path with Erik. "Isn't New York a big enough town to avoid you in?" 

Erik frowned, raising a hand like he wanted to dismiss the human before recognizing Hank. "What?"

Alex was at Hank's side, "You know, I thought so too, but this is the second time I've run into someone who left."

Something cold entered Erik's eyes. "Alex."

Alex scowled, "Erik."

If possible Erik's expression shut down further and he turned to Hank. "And you're remarkably not blue." 

"Don't push that," hank growled, low enough to prove it wasn't a human growl.

"And do I get to be part of this conversation?" the woman beside Erik asked, her arms folded over her chest and surveying the club with a bored expression.

"Not sure we know you," Alex said.

"Not sure that matters," Angel said where she came up alongside the unknown woman.

"Yes I missed the original party," she said. "I assume you're Xavier's poor test subjects."

"And you've met him?" Hank asked.

"Too damn intimately."

Sean appeared next to Hank on the opposite side from Alex, glancing between everyone before holding his hand out to the blond woman, "Sean."

"Oh look, one of you has manners," she said, gracefully accepting his hand. "Emma Frost."

"Frost?" Warren asked as he and Megan came up behind the group. "Of Boston?" Emma's expression instantly shuttered and Erik glanced sideways at her.

"Warren," Sean said, shaking his head.

"Well this is a grand reunion isn't it," Raven said, handing Angel a bottle of coke and staring obviously at Hank for a minute, "You're not—"

"Erik already covered that," he said. "Don't worry it’s not permanent. Any ability I've had to hide is gone."

"Looks like you're hiding pretty well," Raven said.

"Hey," Megan said from behind Hank's shoulder. "Don't be mean."

Raven stared at Megan, "Who the hell are you and where the hell do you get off?"

Megan blinked at her, her all black irises giving her away. "I—I'm with them. I don't think I get off anywhere?"

"Back off, Raven," Alex snapped.

Raven turned her attention on him, "Oh you get no room to talk, Summers."

"Stop it," Megan said again. "I don't really know who you are but this isn't helping anyone."

"She's adorable," Raven said, her tone flat.

"Fuck off, Raven," Alex said, taking a half step forward.

Raven tensed, "I'd like to see you try and make me."

"We're not fighting in the middle of a dance club," Hank said but took half a step in front of Megan anyway.

"Aw but it could be so much fun," Alex said, never taking his eyes off of Raven.

"You know, hate to agree with Hank here, but how about no," Angel said.

Alex darted a glance at her, "How's that burn healed?"

She smiled, thinly, "Perfectly."

"As charming as this reunion is," Erik cut in and Emma made a shushing motion and sound at him.

Sean darted a glance toward Warren and Megan who were both looking confused before turning his attention back, "Hate to say I agree with Erik, but I kinda agree with Erik about this one thing."

"I'm sure that hurts you to say," Erik said with a smile that made the few remaining people around them finally back away.

"Actually there's a lot I agree with you on," Hank said. "Except you're fucking insane and going about everything the wrong way."

"Hank, maybe not a good idea," Alex said, eying Erik but refusing to back down.

"Excuse me?" Erik asked. "As far as I remember your response to being proud of what you were was to try and cover it up. You were hiding from your boss, your friends and maybe even your family and you want to tell me now you're agreeing with me?"

Alex tensed at that, his hands tightening into fists, "Fuck you, Lehnsherr. Seriously, fuck you."

"And can you really tell me _you're_ happy there, Summers?" Erik asked with venom in his voice.

"That's got nothing to do with it," Alex snapped.

"Doesn't it?" Erik asked and Emma gave Alex an appraising look before glancing at Hank who had obviously tensed. 

"Stop it," Megan said, poking her head over Hank's shoulder and looking annoyed. "Leave them both alone it's already hard enough—"

"If they're having problems it's of their own making," Erik said.

" _Our_ own making? Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?" Alex took another half step forward.

"You're the one that decided to stay on that beach with those who hate themselves—"

“Remind me where kissing Charles falls into that particular statement?" Hank asked.

Erik turned back to him. "And look at you who hates yourself so much you can never stop hiding. You are _everything_ wrong with mutants, Hank McCoy."

Sean swore under his breath in the same moment that Alex swung his right fist toward Erik's jaw. His fist collided, sending Erik reeling back for a split second before he used the metal on Alex's belt buckle to send him flying across the room. Emma side stepped Erik at the same moment Megan pulled off her coat and shrugged out of the modified harness and Hank threw himself at Erik with a roar no human throat could make.

Angel tossed her coat aside, her own wings unfurling as she darted out of the way. Sean swore, grabbing Warren and yanking him back as Raven shifted into a larger form and slammed into Hank's side.

Megan tipped her head at Angel and almost smiled except Hank's next growl shook her out of it. Hank kicked out at Raven as Emma daintily moved further away from the fight, ending up somewhere near Sean and Warren, as Hank's image inducer totally broke down.

"Fuck," Sean swore. "Warren, go check on Alex, make sure he's conscious, please? And then get him over here." He glanced at Emma, "Hi. Any chance you've got a power that'll calm the panic of the humans a bit?"

She arched a brow at him as Warren also dispensed with his harness and swooped across the room. "I'm a telepath."

"I'm going to hope like hell that's a yes and I'm not going to regret this," Sean said. "Any chance you could calm the panic and, I dunno keep them from calling the cops because that seems like a really bad thing to have happen right now." He glanced back over and winced as Raven dodged in again, landing a fairly solid kick to Hank's side.

Emma hummed and many of the remaining humans seemed to find something else to do, drifting away and looking a little dazed.

"And you," Hank roared. "This seems like a better way to you? Like leaving Charles bleeding and stranded on a beach with no way out?"

Sean ran a hand over his face, "Fuck. God fucking damn it. We were coming out, Warren and Megan were going to dance. I was going to fail at flirting.

Alex was going to sulk and I don't even know. Fuck."

"Don't _even_ ," Raven snarled.

"Don't even what?" Hank demanded as Emma just arched a brow at Sean. "He's your brother and you were perfectly willing to leave him for a maniac—"

Erik waved a hand from where he was still on the ground, sending Hank flying and Megan tried to swoop underneath and catch him, only sending both of them tumbling over on the ground.

"Great. Fucking great," Sean muttered. He looked at Emma, "Good to meet you, gonna go check on them before this, somehow, gets worse."

Alex was stumbling to his feet across the room with Warren's help. Hank was already up on his feet again, squaring off against Raven and Erik as Megan shifted and tested her wings out behind them. 

"This is rich coming from you, McCoy," Erik said. "So concerned with hiding yourself you turned into a beast. It's dramatic irony at its best with you."

"I've learned a lot in the last few months, can you say the same?" Hank demanded.

"Learned a lot?" Raven snapped. "Looks like you haven't changed all that much, actually. Maybe angrier."

"I wonder what could have made me angry," Hank snarled as Megan ran a hand over her wings in some small panic. Angel hovered for another moment before swooping down and landing next to Megan.

"Start with your own fuck up and work outward, Hank," Raven snapped. "Or _wasn't_ it you who basically told me that I should stay blond and pretty all the time?"

"No one would accept us! No one will! But that's not the point anymore, I recognize that now."

"And you think humanity ever will?" Erik demanded. "They would wipe us out they've proven that time after time."

"Maybe they won't, maybe they will," Sean said. "Who are you to decide what way that's gonna fall?"

Erik's eyes narrowed at him. "Because I've seen the worst humanity can do."

"That doesn't mean that they will again," Sean protested.

"Well, that's blindly idealistic," Alex muttered as he came to stand, moderately unsteadily, next to Hank.

Hank reached a hand out to steady him as Erik narrowed his eyes. "Remind me again what you're doing with Charles?"

Megan looked up at Angel. "I'm fine, it's fine."

Angel nodded, "Get....just take care of them, yeah? It's a bitch waiting for wings to heal."

"I like the idea that it could happen. I also don't like where your ideas could go," Alex said, his voice flat.

"One near miss is enough for one month," Megan muttered.

Angel nodded again and backed off, fluttering up into the air again, "Just, take care of them. Trust me."

"I'm trying," Megan said, almost petulant as Erik narrowed his eyes at Alex.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about how you're going to bring this about," Alex said. "You're arming yourselves for war."

"Of course it's going to be a war," Erik said and Emma crossed her arms over her chest.

"What about the people not useful to your cause? To your war?" Sean asked.

"If they stand in my way," and Erik met Alex's eyes. "Then they will be removed."

"That." Alex said, steadily, "Is why I'm not with you."

Hank's hand that had meant to be steadying tightened on Alex's arm as Erik stared at him before abruptly turning away. "Emma?"

"Oh our contact is long gone," she said. "Bad luck all around tonight it seems."

"Not exactly gone," a woman's voice came from near the door.

"Long gone in the metaphoric sense," Emma corrected easily.

The woman walked forward, her dark hair in two wrapped braids, "True. They make a more convincing argument. Or at least a preferable one."

Hank blinked at her as Erik scowled. "You may think you're winning—" 

"It's not a contest," Hank protested. "As long as it is none of us are winning."

"But humans will only hate us more and more."

"Of course they will if you keep throwing bombs at them and declaring yourself the superior race," Hank said and was not prepared for a metal leg from one of the tables to slap him across the face, opening a cut there.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Erik said before turning and striding out, Hank hesitantly touching the side of his face like he was processing what had happened.

Alex watched as Raven, Angel, and Emma left as well before focusing on the stranger, "And you are?"

"Danielle Moonstar. I was coming to hear what they had to say. I heard enough," she said.

"Yes it doesn't take long with Erik," Hank said and shook his head like there was a ringing in his ears.

"This is...." Sean sighed, "It's really probably not a good time. But if you'd like to stop by and talk? Or...call, or I dunno, something, Xavier's on Graymalkin Lane in Salem Center north of the City."

"Smart, Cassidy," Alex muttered, eying Danielle warily.

"I'll consider it," she said.

"We need more teachers," Hank murmured to Alex.

Alex glanced at him and nodded, "Yeah. We need to go home first though."

"Yes," Hank said "Jesus we need to go home."

"Great." Alex said, "Let's go."

Sean sighed, "Okay." He looked at Danielle and offered her a bit of a smile, "Hope we hear from you later?"

"We'll see," she agreed. "Good luck and good night."

Hank nodded abruptly at her before weaving toward the door. Alex managed to keep himself steady and Sean swore as he followed, "Are either of you not concussed?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm driving," Alex said.

Sean sighed, "Yeah, I know. It's pretty much the only option."

"We’ll be fine," Hank said. "You take the other two." He looked up and down the street, swore, and crawled into the back seat of the car, laying on his side.

Sean shrugged and nodded, "Just, try not to kill each other on the way home, I'm not sure I want to explain that to Megan and Warren on top of all of this."

Alex rolled his eyes, opening the driver's door and getting in, "Fuck you, Cassidy." He closed it and leaned his head back against the seat for a moment before starting the car.

Megan watched them. "Are they gonna be okay?"

Sean nodded, "Yeah, they should be. They might end up yelling at each other, but that doesn't usually affect Alex's driving." She gave him a dubious look before folding herself into the car.

In the other car Hank didn't even look up as Alex got into the driver’s seat. "Is that such a good idea?"

"Which part?" Alex asked, putting the car in gear and pulling out.

"Driving," Hank said. "What else would I mean?"

"And you would do it how?" Alex replied.

Hank fell silent again, watching the streetlights go by. "I'm sorry," he said, several blocks later.

Alex glanced in the rearview mirror at that, frowning, "For what?"

"This was supposed to be fun," Hank said. "You graduated high school."

"Hey, hey now, I'm the one that threw the first punch," Alex said.

"That's not—I'm sorry tonight turned out like this," Hank said, curled up on the back seat so no one would see him.

"I am too, but you don't need to apologize. Fuck, Hank, we couldn't have known," Alex said, shifting his hands on the steering wheel as he pulled onto the highway.

"I still wish we could go out and do something normal without it becoming—something else," Hank said.

"It'll happen eventually," Alex said, more conviction in his voice than he actually felt.

"I'm not feeling so sure of that at this particular moment in time," Hank muttered.

"I'm still riding a slight high from getting in a good punch on Erik's jaw at this point," Alex admitted.

Hank snorted and then winced. "I think he got a better one in on me in the end."

"Yeah, we'd probably better take a look at that when we get back," Alex said, pausing. "Think you can stick around my space long enough to do that?"

"What does that mean?" Hank asked, sounding tired.

"I mean that I've barely seen you since, well since I yelled at you in your lab," Alex said.

"It wasn't on purpose," Hank said. "At least, it was far less on purpose than it has been in the past."

"Well, that's reassuring, I guess," Alex said, changing lanes to the far left.

"Is it?" Hank asked.

"You avoid me for a week after I tell you something like that....okay not very well but still. Yeah it's reassuring it wasn't as on purpose as in the past."

"I was just—surprised."

Alex was silent for a long moment, "Are you, are you _serious_? Do you know how many times I was sure you _knew_?"

"Uh, no," Hank said. "I always convinced myself whatever I _thought_ I heard it wasn't what I actually heard."

"Fucking hell, Hank," Alex said, glancing in the mirror again. "I was sure I'd outed myself all the way back in November and again the next month and about once a month since!"

"Nope," Hank said, shifting.

"Jesus," Alex shook his head. "I'm not sure I even want to know how you managed to convince yourself otherwise about a couple of the things I said." He hesitated, glancing back briefly again, "I'm....hoping you're not actually taking this negatively? Me being, y'know."

"No," Hank said. "I—I'm not."

"Okay," Alex said quietly.

Hank paused. "Did you think I would?"

"I dunno. Not really. But you're not actually an easy read, Hank," Alex said.

"You're the one who seemed so upset the first time—when we talked about Charles and Erik."

"Yeah, because Erik is a fucking bastard who abandoned us on a beach and left Charles in a wheelchair," Alex said. "I told you that."

"I know," Hank admitted. "But that doesn't mean I ever fully believed it."

"I don't—" Alex cut himself off before he could compound a lie.

"What?" Hank asked.

Alex winced, "So, you know how we say we don't lie to each other? Or, or how we did?"

"Yeah?" Hank asked, lifting his head. "Is that last sentence in past tense?"

"I....I've lied to you once."

"You did," Hank said his voice flat, making it not a question.

Alex swallowed and nodded, "Christmas. You asked me what I wanted from you and I told you I had no idea."

Hank froze. "No?"

"Yeah. I mean, fuck, I wasn't going to answer that question. Hell knows I'm an asshole and I haven't been less of one to you," Alex said, focused out the windshield.

Hank paused. "Oh," he settled for instead of any number of things.

"Oh, he says," Alex muttered.

"How do you expect me to react to something like that?" Hank demanded.

"I'd kinda like to know which part of it you're reacting to since apparently we're not always reacting to the same thing," Alex shot back.

"That Sean claiming you were pulling my pigtails does not seem so far-fetched after all."

Alex swallowed, "Okay, for one I resent that. But, um, yeah probably not."

"Alright, Alex, what _do_ you want from me?"

"I don't—" Alex sighed, "It's not that I don't know, it's that I don't know how to say it. I want....fuck I want a lot. I want more than friendship. You're brilliant, amazing, completely gorgeous, a genius, and a have great sense of humor when you use it."

Hank blinked, blinked again and punched the back of the passenger seat, where Alex wasn't sitting.

Alex startled, "Jesus fuck, Hank!"

"Next time, _lead_ with that, not bozo and furball."

Alex glanced in the mirror again, "Sorry. I...yeah."

"Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?" Hank asked, curling his hands up against his chest.

"Not really. Not usually what people call me," Alex said, pulling off the highway exit.

"Is bastard more accurate?"

"More common. Asshole also works," Alex said. "Those, those I know how much I am."

Hank buried his face in his hands in the back seat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm making it worse again."

Alex frowned, sparing an actual half turn of his head to look toward Hank before focusing forward again, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm getting mad at you," Hank said and sighed. "Right after saying this was supposed to not—be that sort of day."

"Hey, I know I fucked this up. I'm kinda....not surprised if you do get mad?" Alex said, glancing in the mirror again and pulling onto Graymalkin lane.

"That's not reassuring to me right now," Hank said.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Alex asked. "I fucked up a couple things here, so..." he shrugged.

"Assuming we're not lying to each other right now," Hank said. "Why did you punch Erik?"

"Because he's more of a bastard than I am. And he never should have said that shit," Alex said.

Hank pressed his cheek against the seat cushion.

"He's _wrong_ , Hank." Alex said, firmly.

"About what?"

"You being an example of what's wrong with mutants. There's..." Alex breathed out slowly as he drove down the drive to the mansion. "It's not true."

"Right," Hank said.

Alex put the car in park and turned fully around in his seat, swearing softly at a twinge of pain from that, "Why do I think you're not actually agreeing with me?"

Hank sighed and crawled out of the back seat.

Alex got out of the car, shutting the door and pocketing the keys, "No, seriously, Hank you don't _believe that_ do you?"

"I don't know what I believe," Hank said. "It's all a jumble right now."

"Fuck, Hank, no," Alex said, tensing. "You're not....fuck. Let's see what I can do to patch you up. I'm not....maybe I should, god I can't believe I’m going to say this, go find Bishop?"

Hank touched the side of his face. "It's fine," he said automatically.

"Not just your face I'm worried about," Alex said. "Though that's part of it."

Hank stared at him. "What else are you worried about?"

"Your ribs, your—Hank you fought Raven and Erik and he threw you back and clobbered you with a table leg. The cut is not actually at the top of my worries," Alex said.

"I'm fine," Hank said. "It's not, nothing hurts that much."

Alex eyed him, "Will you let me help with that cut then?"

"Alex," Hank said, not answering the question. "You know—with what you said—"

"Said a lot of things," Alex said, facing Hank at the door of the mansion.

"About what you wanted from me," Hank said. "About—about me being mad about that."

Alex fell still at that, "Are you mad about that?"

"No, I'm not," Hank stopped, shifting, looking down and then left and back at Alex. "That's not what I—"

Alex rocked back slightly at that, "What are you saying, Hank?"

"I'm saying—I'm saying that," Hank stopped again.

"Longer this goes on the more I'm doubting it, Hank," Alex warned.

Hank opened and closed his mouth again before he sighed. "To hell with it," he said, mostly under his breath before shoving Alex into the wall of the mansion with his hands on his shoulders.

Alex startled, his hands instinctively moving to Hank's shoulders to start to push him back, a defensive motion. His voice went up a couple notches, "Hank?"

For a second Hank froze again before he shoved forward, slamming their mouths together with his hands curling on Alex's shoulders. Alex made a surprised sound in the back of his throat even as his fingers tangled around Hank's shirt. 

Somewhat emboldened, Hank pressed forward, shoving Alex further into the wall of the mansion and bringing one of his hands to the back of Alex's head. Pressing into the kiss, Alex moved his left hand from Hank's shirt to rest against the nape of Hank's neck.

"Alex—" Hank murmured, pulling back just enough.

"Christ, Hank," Alex said, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You..."

Instead of replying Hank kissed him again, cradling Alex's face for a second with his palms before seeming to realize what he was doing and resting both his hands on either side of Alex's head.

Alex drew back as he heard a car coming up the drive, muttering, "Fuck your timing, Cassidy."

"Alex," Hank said and his eyes were too wide in the dim light from the front door and for a second he didn't look like he cared others were pulling up.

Alex offered him a crooked, slightly shaky, grin, "So start with the good next time, huh?"

"Yes," Hank said, too breathless and still not moving back even when Warren was first out of the car.

Alex moved his hand from where it had still been at the back of Hank's neck, his fingers trailing briefly through the fur on the side of Hank's throat, "I'll, keep that in mind."

"Good you both got home in one piece," Sean called from where he was getting out of the car.

"So this is what," Warren started to say and Megan clamped a hand over his mouth.

"So did you," Alex said.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't thrown into a wall or hit with a table leg tonight either," Sean said.

Hank stepped away from Alex, not quite looking at him. "I'm fine. It's fine."

"You guys finally talk then?" Sean asked, glancing between them as he headed for the front door.

"Yes," Hank said shortly.

"Good, about time," Sean said, pushing the door open and stepping into the mansion. Hank shook his head, following him inside only to find Charles waiting inside the front door for them.

"Good god, where have you all been and what have you been doing?" Charles said, looking Hank and Alex over.

Alex scowled, "Oh fuck off, Charles."

"We were getting into fights with your boyfriend," Hank said.

"What—" Charles started, but Alex cut him off.

"I have been thrown into a wall tonight and I am sore and cranky. And you don't get to say a damned thing." He started for the stairs.

Hank watched him go for a moment before turning back to Charles. "Erik was out and about. We just wanted to go out and have a nice night."

"Hank, wh—"

Sean shook his head, "Charles, we're all tired. You've got no reason to play disapproving dad right now. Good night?"

"He's right," Hank said, as Warren and Megan hustled upstairs. "I don't think any of us want to talk about it."

Charles pursed his lips and then nodded, "Very well. Good night, both of you."

Hank started for the stairs and stopped, turning around. "Were you honestly waiting up for us like a disappointed parent?"

"It is not late enough for me to be 'waiting up', Hank. I was up and felt you pull in," Charles answered.

"Right," Hank said and kept going up the stairs.

Alex was waiting in the hall upstairs, leaning against the wall, "I was serious about letting me look at that cut."

Hank stopped too fast, almost tripping over himself. "Okay."

"Where's a good place for that?" Alex asked.

Hank gestured toward his room and started walking before allowing himself to think it through. Alex blinked a couple times, but pushed off the wall to follow Hank. Hank stopped inside the doorway and sighed before pushing into his own room. "It's fine, I think," he said.

"Probably, but I'd like to take a look anyhow," Alex said. "He hit you with a _table leg_."

Hank shrugged and sat down on the edge of his bed. There was a poster tacked up along one wall of the periodic table and not much else. Alex darted a glance toward the walls before focusing back on Hank, turning on the lamp at the bedside to get a little more light right there. He carefully touched Hank's face, avoiding directly touching the cut as he did so, brushing some of the fur away from the already scabbed mark.

Hank carefully held himself still, tension in his shoulders. "You know, it wasn't really your fault."

"Which part?" Alex asked, gently feeling the area around the cut before pulling his hands back.

"I meant, mostly, me not trusting you," Hank said.

"I didn't make it easy," Alex said, meeting Hank's eyes. "Also, you're right about the cut, though you're going to need to wash it, and the area around it probably."

Hank's eyes slid away just as quickly. "But—when I was younger, I used to try and convince myself the bullies around me weren't that bad. Maybe they were being jerks for some reason and actually it was just—for show. Maybe for whatever reason they didn't mean it. And that was never true. So even when you started acting like maybe bozo wasn't an insult, like maybe you cared and were nice I was far too hell bent on _not_ seeing it to acknowledge what was in front of me."

Alex rocked back on his heels and slid his hands into his pockets, "It was a dick move. And you were right on Christmas. I was being cruel. I get what you're saying. I'm sorry for what I did to contribute to it."

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's—I don't want you to feel guilty or apologize. I just—I was wrong to be so blind too is all."

"Okay," Alex said, quietly.

"It's not," Hank started and shook his head. "Come here?"

Alex hesitated and stepped closer, close enough to touch, drawing his hands out of his pockets again. Hank also wavered before he reached forward, pulling Alex closer and gently tugging him down.

Moving with the pull, Alex sat down next to Hank, darting another glance at the blank walls before focusing back on Hank again, "I...."

Hank reached out, touching his face and slowly pulling him into another kiss, this one slow and hesitant as opposed to earlier. Alex's fingers flexed against his thighs before he moved his right hand to rest on Hank's arm, returning the kiss just as carefully.

"This is nice," Hank said, sounding a little uncertain.

Alex nodded, "Yeah, yeah it is."

"Good," Hank said and kissed him again, a little more forcefully but still gentle. Alex moved his hand to rest on Hank's uninjured cheek as he pressed into the kiss. Hank pulled away with a small nuzzle against Alex's hair. "Okay," he murmured, more to himself than Alex. "Okay."

Alex blinked at him for a moment before smiling, not quite a grin but almost, "Okay?"

"Yeah," Hank said. He almost but didn't quite smile. "I can work with this."

"Good," Alex said, slowly drawing his hand back. "I'm, I'm glad."

Hank caught his hand before Alex could totally reclaim it, kissing the palm and releasing it. Alex's breath hitched and he stared at Hank with wide eyes as he curled his hand closed and drew it back.

Hank shifted, suddenly unsure what to do with Alex still in his room. "It's okay, right?"

Alex nodded, "It is, yes." He hesitated before he got to his feet again, "Really okay."

"Good," Hank said, watching him.

Alex offered him a crooked smile, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," Hank said, with almost a smile. "Can't really imagine avoiding it."

"Good," Alex said. "Take care of that cut and I'll see you in the morning." Hank nodded and watched him leave.


End file.
